Of Painkillers and Sedatives
by tractus.solitarius
Summary: He's loopy; she's sedated. What's the worst thing that could happen? (Set pre-season 11)
1. The Druggie and the Drugless

**I'm saddened by the decline in the number of ncis related fics in this site. Hope this one helps.**

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><p><em>Elevator dings<em>

"I am telling you McGee, _I am fiiine_."

The exasperation (not to mention the slurring) in his partner's voice drew Tony's attention out of his pain-induced reverie. He tried to turn his head towards the direction of the voice, only to find it being yanked back by the steady hands of their resident medical examiner. "Anthony, this would be a lot faster if you'd stay still." He heard Ducky say. He cringed when the antiseptic landed none too gently onto the gash on his forehead. Somehow, Ducky's words eerily gave him a feeling of Déjà vu. He rejected the thought as fast as he'd entertained it, though. Maybe it was just the headache, he thought. Or perhaps the leftover pasta he had this morning. He knew he shouldn't have eaten it. He just knew it.

He turned his attention back to the brewing argument…

"No, Ziva. I don't think you are." McGee replied in a frustrated I-knew-things-better-than-you kind of way. He only uses that tone whenever he argues with Tony, so imagine the senior field agent's surprise when he realized that for the first time in the history of NCIS probies, that particular McGeek tone wasn't directed onto him. And it wasn't simply not directed to him—it's pointed straight to their very own ex-assassin extraordinaire. Isn't probie at least aware of the health risks that come with talking like that to ninjas? If the McGoo has a freakin' death wish, sure as hell he has failed to mention it to him.

"Then you are wrong." Ziva told him flatly, finally coming into Tony's fairly limited and blurry view. Ducky was blocking more than half of his visual field though. Judging the good doctor's quick motions, he was about to finish patching up his wound.

Done or not, Tony still felt woozy. In fact, all he could see is his partner's hazy silhouette. Why do gang members love using bats against the heads of federal officers these days? Don't they know how blasphemous it is especially to the god of baseball, Mr. October himself, Reggie Jackson?

Lucky for him, the bad guy who hit him did not have the same accuracy as a baseball player. If he did, he'd surely have a bad case of mashed potato head ala DiNozzo. Unfortunately though, his left arm had to suffer greatly because of it. Yeah, it was damaged in a fractured-kind-of-way, which Tony found to be quite depressing. But he figured he has no right to complain much about it, given the alternative. He'd take a slightly fractured ulna over a not-so-solid head any day. It's a good thing he has good bat blocking abilities. Now he just have to nurse the arm, the very-mild-barely-there concussion, and the small graze on his forehead.

"Ducky, help me." McGee pleaded; his irritated tone long forgotten.

Ducky turned his attention to the two other agents, wondering what their plight could possibly be. Hopefully, it's not as bloody as Tony's. It took him quite some time to patch him up. He certainly is not a fan of the emergency room's unique bandaging style. "What seems to be the—" The duckman halted midsentence. A stunned expression clouded his face as he set his eyes on the female agent. "Oh dear, what happened to you?"

That tone made Tony's head turn. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, but everything was still foggy to him. Damn headache. At least his forehead is all clean and wrapped up again, so that's one good thing. Not exactly as good as new, but at least it is much better than the mangled mess that it was before he was rushed to the hospital a few hours ago.

Speaking of hospitals, he can't really remember anything after he was carted off the scene by the paramedics. Everything was exceedingly foggy that time. The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the Navy Yard while his pockets were being raided by a stony-faced Gibbs for his elusive NCIS ID. For a second there, he panicked, thinking that Gibbs was groping him. But he brushed the disturbing notion off his muddled brain faster than he thought he possibly could. A touchy-feely sniper boss is as farfetched as any extremely-over-the-top farfetched ideas go. Seeing him levitate would be far more believable.

Oh, god. He was in a hospital. Tony sighed to himself. That's thrice this month. At this rate, he should already be handed a loyalty card or something.

"'m fiiine!" Ziva's voice broke Tony's trance once more.

McGee shrugged at Ziva's stubbornness. Who looks like that and remains fine? A feather could probably make her fall over. Well, not really a feather, but whatever.

Ducky fumbled inside his pocket for some sort of pen. "You most definitely do not look like it, my dear."

"See? Even Ducky thinks you're not okay." McGee pointed out victoriously. He finally had someone to side him. At first, he'd expected it to be Tony, but he seemed just as equally out of it as their resident Israeli-American. "Told you she spiked that tea."

Upon hearing those words, Tony sprang up from his chair and demanded, "Can you say that again probie?" He cringed, then yelped as a new round of throbbing made its way into his injured limb.

Unfortunately for Tony, the sudden movement also worsened his already wobbly world. He groaned as he was forced back to his seat by gravity. Eyes firmly shut, he pinched his nose bridge. "Did you just let some random person drug my ninja?"

Ducky's eyebrows arched higher at the hint of possessiveness in Tony's tone. The medical examiner cast a meaningful glance at McGee direction, but all the young agent did was shudder.

Ziva interrupted, unmindful of the playful, yet hushed exchange. "Really, I am fine. How—" She closed her eyes for a few seconds before she was forced to take a deep breath. She can't even find the energy to stay irritated anymore. Her voice is slurring, even she could tell. "How…many times am I s'pposed to tell you m'fine?"

"You are a lot of things Agent David, but sadly, as of the moment, fine is not one of them." With his thumb, Ducky clicked the pen-like contraption he was holding, directing a yellowish beam of light towards Ziva's unfocused eyes. She flinched slightly at the sudden burst of brightness. It felt like it burned through her retinas, etching a seemingly permanent blob of black which is visible to her even with eyes closed. If not for the audience around her, she would've probably shrieked in frustration, which is probably not a very good idea in her case. She has a reputation to protect.

"At least, it doesn't appear to be any kind poisoning." Ducky pulled her out of her headspace by taking out a pointy object from his pocket and pricking her finger unceremoniously. She half jumped from her seat before letting out a faint curse. It wasn't in English of course. Expletives in other tongues seemed to have more appeal to her. Then he took one of those hammer-like things that doctors use and tapped her somewhere below her knee. Satisfied with her results, Ducky chuckled, "No drug overdosage either. Your reflexes, my dear, are still intact."

"When weren't they?" Tony cut in. He's finally starting to find the humour in the situation they found themselves in.

A sarcastic retort started to form on Ziva's lips, but she decided against it. She would not waste her remaining energy on words which are most likely to end up slurred.

"How do you feel?" The good doctor asked her gently.

"Been better." She bitterly admitted. "My mind is foggy, yet I feel too physically… relaxed."

"Just say you are not feeling well, for Pete's sake!" McGee blurted out exasperatedly. Judging the stunned silence that followed, no one saw that outburst coming. Probably even McGee did not expect it. The entire room went to a standstill.

Tony's mouth literally gaped open. He almost felt his jaw make contact with the squadroom floor. "Wha-"

Tim, recovering quickly, waved both of his hands in front of him in an attempt to somehow physically erase all the stuff he just said. "Sorry, I... Ziva, um. What I'm trying to say is that... is that, um. Really I-"

Tim's nervousness about the Ziva's current situation is very much palpable. Tony could tell. The probie wouldn't snap at her if isn't. Fortunately, before McGee could dig an even deeper grave for himself, Ziva's defeated voice reached their ears, "Fine." She muttered under gritted teeth. "I feel quite bad. My muscles are too relaxed than I would prefer, and I think my legs would not be able to hold me if I try to stand again. There, I said it. Happy?"

_Woah, woah. Hold it right there._ According Tony's ninja-to-normal dictionary, whenever Ziva says 'quite bad', it meant that things are really, _really_ bad. She tends to undercompensate a lot. To make things worse, did he just hear her admit defeat to McGee? _This isn't right. _He turned to their medical examiner (still with burry vision, but less so) and mouthed so Ziva wouldn't hear, "Hospital?"

Ducky pondered the question for a moment. He was about to say yes (Tim could tell, and he couldn't agree more), when Ziva made her declaration. "No hospitals, I can handle this." The drugs in her system were obviously unable to keep her spidey senses at bay. "I can sleep this off."

Tim looked at Ducky pleadingly. Tony simply frowned.

"Are you sure, Agent David?" the doctor ignored his co-workers' gazes and stared at intently at Ziva.

"I am sure, Ducky." She stared at Ducky, unseeing, but she did not think he noticed. "I am fine."

Ducky regarded her with light scrutiny. "Very well then."

Tony did not like her not going to the hospital. Although, come to think of it, even if he doesn't completely trust Ziva's personal ill-o-meter (it is always turned off, he thinks), he could always trust Ducky's.

"All I want… 'sss to rest my eyes… too slack to do… things." Ziva admitted, silently hoping that her team mates would let her case drop. Her words became slightly fragmented at this point. She finally let her eyes droop. "gonna… just, mm.. sleep this off. 'Kay?"

At least she felt relaxed, Tony thought. A jumpy ninja is the last thing he—or anyone— would need. "Some people think that's a good thing." The senior field agent chimed in with an all-knowing smirk fixed on his face, "but then again, you are not some people. You're our ex-foreign exchange ninja."

"Not this relaxed, though. I feel… jelly-o." She murmured, ignoring his remark completely. "I…think this is not the full effect yet."

"It's _jell-o_." Tony corrected her on impulse. Though regardless of her butchering of that popular snack name, it didn't quite spell the difference to his brain. It still momentarily went someplace else upon her mention of jell-o. A very nice place, he might add. There's a lot of jell-o involved. And women. There will always be women.

It's a good thing Ducky decided to go on talking before Tony could even begin digging himself a grave—beside McGee's. "I have to agree with you on that, my dear." Ducky whispered softy. "I would not force you into a hospital, but you must let me have Abby do a thorough Tox screen. Just to be sure."

Silence filled the bullpen as the medical examiner continued to check on Ziva. McGee was hovering in the background with tension-filled eyes. The probie may not say it aloud, but his body language strongly suggested that he blamed himself for the slip up. Tony knew him too well to miss that, concussed or not.

"What do we got here, Duck?" Gibbs hollered from the top of the stairs leading to MTAC. Tony wasn't sure whether his boss' voice was twice as loud this time, or it is just his painkillers talking—which, by the way, he should gave taken again minutes ago (he refuse to take them again: once is enough, thanks.). Perhaps it's the latter. Whatever the cause was, it just amplified the seriousness of the question. If there's one good thing he could get in this picture, it is that Gibbs usually asks that question in autopsy, where, fortunately they are not in. Or in McGee's case, not yet.

Then, Gibbs realized that instead of Ducky tending on DiNozzo, the old doctor's focus was turned to Ziva. His features turned stormy.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked, slightly taken aback. Ziva and McGee were only supposed to interview nice widow somewhere. He quickly approached Ziva and lifted her chin to face him, scanning her for injuries himself.

"Good question boss." Tony grunted before anyone else could form a thought. "I was wondering about the same thing."


	2. The Consumed and the Costumed

_One Hour Ago_

"McGee, are you sure this is the house?" Ziva, casting suspicious glances at the house in question, asked as she alighted their NCIS-standard issue car. It took them one whole hour to get to that place—and that was with her with the wheel. Beginnings of a bad headache were starting to form between her eyes, and she could not wait to go back to the Navy Yard. Why, of all the days, would McGee pick that one to babble about the pros and cons of using piezoelectric inkjet technology? And how on earth would she know what to do with a dry sublimation system?

"I'm sure, Ziva. I double checked." McGee replied, not able to believe it himself. He'd seen the bank records. There is no way a widow with no apparent businesses nor a decent job could afford such place.

He was still gawking at the house when he realized that Ziva was already halfway across the snow swept path that led to the house. He quickly followed her.

"What now?" McGee wondered aloud. Something's definitely hinky around there, he thought. He rested his hand on his holster just to be sure. Thanks to the cold weather, his every breath turns into a cloud of smoke-like vapour.

She knocked on the door. It has one of those dragon shaped handles made up of gold. By the looks of the house, and the way the said handles shone against the sunlight, they must be genuine. She wondered if this is a common occurrence among the houses in that area. Probably not. "Now, we wait. "She replied flatly. "She is not a suspect yet, McGee."

"Right."

For minutes, they just stood there. Not even a single movement can be heard inside. To lessen their trepidation, Ziva decided to break the silence. "You think she is some sort of a… what do you call it? A dark widow, yes?"

Chuckling, Tim corrected her, "I think you meant black widow." He noticed that Ziva's hand was hovering around her Sig as well. His smile turned into a frown. Aparrently, he was not the only one being paranoid.

Ziva relaxed her shoulders a bit. "Dark… black… Same difference, McGee."

"Her records say that she didn't marry anyone else after her first husband died." McGee pointed out. Like the address, he double checked that too.

"It does not mean that she—" Ziva's words were cut off when they heard the door being unlocked from the other side. Her shoulders tensed. A shiver ran through her body while her grip on her gun tightened, prepared to shoot anytime. It is Ziva's ready-to-pounce position, as Tony would fondly call it.

A very old woman opened the door. They both eased back.

McGee put one of his best smiles. He was seriously hoping the old woman didn't hear the black widow remark. "Good afternoon. Is Mrs. Jacobson here?" He greeted politely. The woman reminded him of the wicked witch in Hansel and Gretel. Shuddering slightly at the thought, he conjured the best fake smile he could muster. Ziva almost guffawed.

"She is inside." She replied with a hoarse voice. "I do not mean to be rude, but we were not expecting any visitors today. May I know who you are?"

"Oh, right." McGee grimaced as he took out his credentials and introduced himself. "I am Special Agent Timothy McGee, NCIS. Naval Criminal Investigative Service. This is Special Agent Ziva David. We would like to ask a few questions."

"I see." With a sweet smile, she said, "Please, come in." She led the way. Her walking is slow. Too slow. No wonder it took her 10 whole minutes to open the door. "I'll take you to the drawing room."

'_Drawing room?_' Ziva mouthed to McGee behind the old lady's back. He just shrugged.

Another large door was opened, and they were escorted into a brightly lit room with tall windows and even taller ceilings. Old paintings were strewn everywhere. The right side of the room has a spiral staircase that leads to a mezzanine. Directly below it were numerous shelves of books, some seem to date back to the 17th century. With two plush couches and a huge animal skin carpet complementing it, that side of the room seemed to be taken directly off some book about Regency England. At the center of the room, an intricately patterned carpet was spread over the unblemished wooden floor tiles. Around it are antique side tables and more plush lounge chairs and sofas. A grand piano sat on the left side, with the top part hoisted up, and its keys crammed with a pile of music sheets. It looked thoroughly used. The windows directly beside it opened into a nice little flower garden—or something similar. It was hard to determine, with the snow and all.

Once they were settled on their seats, the old woman graciously asked, "Would you like anything to drink, agents?"

"No. Thank you, ma'am. We're fine." McGee managed to say. The place is too formal for his liking.

"Tea it is." The old woman chuckled. "Make yourselves at home; Mrs. Jacobson will be coming shortly." She finally left, carefully closing the door behind her.

Ziva waited a few more beats before speaking up, "Well, that was weird."

"This is weird." McGee corrected, gesturing around the room. "I feel like in one of those books my sister likes to read."

Ziva could not agree more. She had read those kinds of books as well. However, she has better things to do than to ponder the weirdness of it all. Thinking that the old lady may take some time, she stood up and extracted her phone from her pocket. She glanced at McGee. "This will only take a moment. I need to call my cable repairman." She made a face, "broken again."

"Sure." He almost asked her what does she need a cable repairman for when she does not even watch TV that much, but her back was turned before he got the chance to.

McGee slouched on his seat and looked around. If only Tony didn't get his arm all bashed up, he'll be the one to pay this place a visit. Not that he's complaining. The old lady isn't totally wicked witch material. Okay, maybe she is. But she's not the only one giving him the creeps. The entire feel of the place does.

He glanced at Ziva. She's still having a fairly animated conversation with the poor repairman. More like arguing, actually. Though her voice is hushed, her anger is clearly visible from her body language.

When Ziva went back to her seat, McGee bravely asked, "You okay?" Although he thinks the poor repairman needs that question more.

"Of course, McGee." She replied, all smiles now. "He promised to go and fix it as soon as he can, before tonight I guess."

Tim briefly wondered what Ziva told the poor guy that he's now scrambling to go on a house call on a weekend, but before he could ponder on it further, the old woman came back in, struggling to push a small cart towards them. It carries small tea cups, saucers and a lot of other stuff. McGee immediately stood up and helped her.

"Why, thank you, dear lad." The old lady smiled. She prepared the tea and handed it to them carefully. "Hope you like Jasmine tea."

"Thank you." Both agents replied in unison. Ziva's smile looked to genuine it was hard to believe she was just fuming a little over a minute ago.

They were about to take a sip when the large door opened once again. It revealed a middle aged woman clad in some gaudy bauble-infested tutu. She wore a frizzy shoulder-length pink wig. Her eyes are hollow, so as her cheeks. It's either she has been sick, or she has been taking illegal drugs lately.

A wide grin was etched on the lady's face as she pirouetted towards the two confused agents. Their jaws went slack.

Mrs. Jacobson sat across Ziva and greeted, "Hello. I'm Emma Jacobson." She glanced at the old woman with a forced smile. She got a small nod in return. "Matilda said that you were looking for me."

An awkward silence followed before the old lady finally decided to quietly leave the room. McGee drank his tea in one huge gulp. He almost gagged everything out when the silly taste of the liquid finally reached his tongue. He covered it up by a few fake coughs. That was the second fake thing he did this day, and it was definitely not a very nice pattern.

Ziva was the first one to recover. She cannot help but notice the uncontrollable trembling of Mrs. Jacobson's hands and feet. "Um, we are Agents David and McGee. We—we would like to ask you a few questions about the death of Lieutenant Jerry Osbourne."

Emma gasped. She was awfully stunned; her tremors doubled in intensity. "Jer? Jer is… dead?"

"Yes." Ziva replied, her voice devoid of emotion. "His body was found earlier this morning."

"Ma'am, forgive us, but we have to ask some questions. You were the last person he called before he died. May we ask what the conversation was about?" McGee asked, going down to business. He tried not to look at Mrs. Jacobson's attire, but her clothes were too bright to ignore.

"Yes, he visits here often to play some music." She glanced longingly—albeit shakily—at the deserted piano. The two agents followed her eyes. "He loves that thing." She gazed back at the two agents with an extremely devastated look on her face. "What happened to him?"

"We are still investigating, Mrs. Jacobson. We will inform you once we know more." Ziva replied cautiously. She doesn't think this woman could take it if they tell her that some man with extensive gang ties murdered him in his own home. The mere telling her about the death almost got her hyperventilating. Maybe it's better just to spare her the details. They are rather gruesome anyway.

"Do you mind if I ask…" McGee eyed the baubles in her tutu suspiciously. "When was the last time you saw him?"

Mrs. Jacobson's lower lip quivered. Her fingers were all twitching nervously on her lap. "Two weeks ago, I guess."

"Why—" McGee's words were cut when they heard Matilda's ear-splitting scream outside. It was accompanied by the sound of glasses shattering. Guns drawn, the two agents rushed towards the direction of the sound.

"Stay right here." Ziva ordered Mrs. Jacobson before following McGee outside.

After a few moments, Ziva and Tim returned to the drawing room. Mrs. Jacobson hurriedly stood up and approached them. "What's going on? Is Matilda alright?"

Ziva gently ushered her back to her seat. "She is fine, Mrs. Jacobson. She said a cat spooked her while she was washing the dishes. It is nothing to be worried about."

"Alright." She let out a shaky breath and swallowed hard. Audibly hard. "Where were we again?"

"We were talking about Lt. Osbourne's death." McGee settles back to his seat. "Do you know anyone who might want to hurt him?"

The tutu woman sighed. "No. I'm sorry. He never mentioned anything of that sort. Whenever he comes here, usually every Saturday, he just walks straight to the piano and plays. We drink tea, we talk a little, but mostly he just plays. My seventeen year old son loved his music."

"Your son?" McGee asked. There was no son written in her file. "You have a son?"

"Well, he's not my real child. I was her biological mother's best friend." She paused and took a deep breath. The trembling did not wane one bit as she gathered some distant memory. Tears started falling from her eyes like a giant waterfall. "She and her husband died in a car crash in 2003. I was with them when it happened." Her voice broke. "I survived. I have no child depending on me, yet I'm the one to survive." 

McGee threw a pleading look to Ziva. Neither knew how to console any person drowning in desolate tears. Especially if that person also happens to be dressed with a fully decorated tutu. Ziva simply shrugged weakly and sipped her tea.

"This house, it belongs to them?" McGee asked after a few seconds.

"Yes. I moved here because his mother made me promise. Way before the accident. If anything happens…" She choked, "If anything bad happens to them, I must always be there for Thom. His custody is given to his uncle, but whenever he's not available, I take over."

"Thom is the name of the child?" Ziva clarified.

"Thomas Reginald, yes."

They talked for a couple of minutes, and half the time the two agents were just waiting for an opening to say goodbye. Surprisingly, they find it quite difficult to do so. To say that they were having a hard time interviewing this woman is an understatement. She seemed to have nothing important to share, yet she is very much compelled on sharing.

Then, all of a sudden, McGee's phone rang (_Thank god)._ He disappeared for a while, and when he returned, he said, "Ziva, Gibbs called. Abby needs us at the evidence garage. He said there was a slight mix-up with the evidence bags."

"I see. Well, Mrs. Jacobson, we have to—" Ziva began, but halted mid-sentence as she stood up and held out her hand to Mrs. Jacobson. Before she could even reach her full height, the room swayed before her eyes. She staggered a few steps before McGee caught her.

"Woah. You alright?" McGee asked her. Mrs. Jacobson was too busy wiping her tears to notice.

Ziva steadied herself, favouring her right side, and then she swallowed back the bile-like substance in her throat. "Yeah. Fine."

McGee moved to Mrs. Jacobson. "Ma'am, thank you for your time. If you remember anything, please don't hesitate to call us." He hands her his card. "We'll find our way out."

"I am sorry I wasn't able to help much." Mrs. Jacobson replied in between sniffles.

The two agents walked out of the house. Tim can't help but notice the slight wobbling in Ziva's steps. Once they're out of earshot, McGee looked at Ziva "You don't look good." He cringed when realized what he just said. "No, what I mean is—"

"I know what you mean McGee." Ziva chuckled, rubbing her eyes. "I am fine. I stood up too fast. Just a little queasy, yes?"

"Okay." Tim closed the door behind him, while Ziva continued walking towards the car. He pleaded sheepishly. "But could you at least let me drive this time?"

"Alright." She threw him the keys with lesser force than she intended. It ended up short—landing a few feet in front of him. It must've been resting inside her pocket for a while. The keys were warm enough to bury itself into the snow.

"Sorry." Ziva muttered as McGee leaned down to pick it up.

"No problem."

She sat on the passenger side and put on her seat belt. As McGee was rounding the hood to the driver's side, Ziva took the chance to put herself back together. She tried to widen her eyes, but her lids felt like twice as heavy. An immense feeling of calm has settled on her body. She balled her hands into fists and took deep breaths.

"Ziva, I really don't think you're okay."

The female agent almost jumped, she did not even notice that McGee has been staring at her. These symptoms are familiar to her, yet it really does not make sense. Dizziness, Light-headedness, drowsiness—all classic signs of a certain drug which she had been all too familiar with a few years back. But how? "Please McGee, just drive to the Navy Yard."

"I'd rather drive to Bethesda."

"I do not need a hospital McGee. I am fine." Ziva's replied, eyes shut. Her head leaned heavily on the headrest.

"You were okay before we got here." McGee pointed out. "Now you're not."

She shot him a look that screamed 'I-am-fine-so-stop-asking', but replied truthfully nonetheless, "I feel a bit sleepy, that's all."

McGee looked appalled. That is not exactly the reassurance he's looking for. However, being an investigator that he is, he can't help but ask, "You did not skip lunch, did you?"

"No." She replied. "I just finished a chicken sub before we left."

"Bad chicken, maybe?" Tim prodded further. "Is your stomach okay? Do you need to throw up?"

Ziva could not decide whether to laugh or be touched at Tim's attempt of playing doctor. "I ate worms before, Tim." She said matter of factly. "I never had food poisoning in my life. Ever."

There's a first time for everything, Tim thought to himself. He waited exactly two beats before asking her again. "Think they spiked the tea?"

His game of twenty questions was beginning to annoy her. "We drank the same tea, McGee. You are fine, so am I!"

Sensing the growing exasperation in her voice, Tim let the argument drop. "Okay."

He drove back to the Navy Yard faster than he usually does. For four blocks he fought the urge to make a u-turn to a nearby hospital, but he didn't think his paranoia (which he surely hoped to be the case) is worth anything as compared to Ziva's wrath. Neither is it an acceptable reason to haul her against her will for a quick consult. Maybe Ducky can knock some sense out of her. Or perhaps Gibbs can drag her kicking and screaming to the hospital himself.

Once in a while, he threw quick glances at his passenger. She obviously is under the weather today. Way under it. Unconsciously, his hand tightened on the steering wheel. If she did turn out poisoned or something, Tony and Gibbs would definitely bite his head off.

Maybe a hospital isn't quite a bad idea after all.

He'll definitely be needing it.


	3. The Clarity in the Ambiguity

**Present Time**

"So that's what happened. I swear, I considered dragging her to the hospital myself, but by the time I have decided to do it, it was too late. We were already pulling up here." McGee finished his tale, glancing around the bullpen. Gibbs stared at him with that unreadable expression again. Ducky was mulling over something. Abby had joined them in the bullpen halfway through the story since the whole team seem to forget that she needs them at the basement. DiNozzo cringes from time to time, while Ziva remained planted on her seat with eyes closed. It was evident that the former Mossad officer finds the flow of conversation somewhat uncomfortable. Not that she could do anything about it.

Abby was the first to speak up. "Let me clarify this Tim, when Mrs. Jacobson entered the room, you were so stunned you drank the whole thing up in one gulp."

"Yes. You think that—" McGee halted when Abby raised her index finger at him, shutting him up.

Abby continued, "When the old lady screamed outside, the two of you ran outside the room to check it. Both of you."

"Yes." McGee glanced at Ducky and Gibbs, they both seemed be following Abby's train of thought. What was he missing? "Wha—" The shushing finger appeared in front of his face again.

"You left Mrs. Jacobson inside." Abby was pacing back and forth the bullpen. "Alone."

"Yes, we did but—" McGee was cut off again.

"With Ziva's tea."

"Yes. Oh… Tim's eyes widened. He finally got it. "Oh."

Abby crossed her arms and stood in front of McGee. "Don't 'oooh' me, Muh-gee. It's just a theory." She walked right to Ducky at glanced pointedly at Ziva, "I need her blood."

Ziva chortled under heavy lids.

"So the mistress of the dark is finally coming out of the closet." Tony joked. "Show me your fangs."

"Careful, DiNozzo." Gibbs warned, making the senior field agent anticipate a headslap. When the familiar burst of pain did not touch the back of his head, he sighed heavily in relief. After a quick mutter of thanks to his injured head, he muttered, his face serious, "of course boss. No fangs for me to see, got it."

Who knew an arm injury also warrants a headslap-free day? Granted, he has a small head wound and a very mild concussion to go with it, but still...

"Yeah, Tony. Don't mess with me." Abby regarded him with a smug look on her face. "I'm the favourite."

Gibbs ran up the stairs and called out, "Ducky, they're all yours. You know what to do."

"Boss, what about the case?" McGee asked hesitantly.

Gibbs turned around and gave him a stare that would most likely knock the socks off a giant dinosaur. The poor probie gulped nervously.

DiNozzo muttered to Tim between gritted teeth. "Two agents down, remember?"

"Make that three, DiNozzo." Gibbs corrected. Tony glanced at the boss with utter confusion. "Agent McGee, you're on babysitter duty."

The three agents roared in protest. Ducky just chuckled while Abby grabbed the Caf-Pow which had magically appeared on Gibbs' desk. If there's anyone in NCIS who knows how to surprise her, it's Gibbs.

"Boss?" McGee asked again. Maybe he heard it all wrong. It's not like Gibbs to throw words like 'Babysitting' into a room full of fully grown agents. However, before he had a chance to verify, the boss was gone. The sound of the closing doors of MTAC just sealed the deal.

Ducky pulled Tim aside and whispered, "May I remind you Agent McGee that Agent DiNozzo is not allowed to succumb to continuous slumber for another eight to ten hours, and he is yet to take these pills." The good doctor handed him a prescription bottle from the hospital. "Make sure he takes that on schedule while he is under your wing, so to speak."

_Great._ McGee inwardly sighed, as his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

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><p><strong>All mistakes are mine. I am quite tired and sleep deprived so forgive me if my story does not make sense or whatever. I'll make up to you next time :)<strong>


	4. The Edict and the Verdict

**I'm off-duty today. Yay!**

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><p>The loud music blaring inside the lab immediately pierced through McGee's ears, and into his consciousness the moment the silver doors of the elevator slid open. The sudden gush of sound momentarily made him dizzy.<p>

"Abby!" He shouted over the noise. When he noticed that the goth didn't hear him at all, he yelled again, making his voice louder. "AB-BY!"

Abby cast a sparing glance at his visitor, and squealed. Her eyes bright. "Timmy! You're here!" Only her squeal seemed more like a mere mouthing of words to the young agent. Plastic death, or whatever band it was that Abby has been listening to dominated the entire room with their shrill screams.

"Are you done with Ziva's blood?" McGee asked, or at least, he tried to ask. He covered his ears with his hands in a lame attempt to salvage what he thinks remains of his shattered eardrum, but it did not help him at all.

"What?" She half yelled over the music. McGee was mouthing something incomprehensible. She attempted to read Tim's lips, but failed considerably. She can't make any of his words out, thanks to his numerous cringing. He was gesturing something she can't quite understand. Something seems wrong with his ears. Ears?

"Oh." Abby said when his message finally dawned on her. She quickly grabbed the remote from the table and lowered the volume of her stereo. The day's events almost made her forget that Timmy—and everyone else, mostly—weren't as enthusiastic as her when it comes to all things strident.

Tim released a relieved sigh. His ears were ringing. "Are you done testing Ziva's blood?"

"No, but I will be. Any minute now." The forensic scientist tapped her fingers excitedly beside her keyboard. Her pigtails bounced happily with her every move.

McGee paced back and forth. He was yet to find a way to ward off all those nervous energy inside his body.

"Don't worry Tim, it isn't really that bad." Abby, noting his distress, assured him.

McGee turned sharply back at the forensic scientist, exasperation thick in his voice. "Not bad? Abby, have you seen what painkillers do to Tony?"

"It can't be that bad…" Abby began, but she herself doubted her answer. "Can it?"

He frowned. "The only person worse than Tony is Tony with painkillers, Abs."

"Probie, for your own good, I'll pretend that I did not hear that." The senior field agent said, entering the lab with a forced grin. He obviously hasn't taken his pain medications yet. If his wincing was any indication, every step he took sent shockwaves to his arm, and head. "Ziva is still upstairs with Ducky."

Abby rushed past McGee to hug the recently injured agent. "Tony, you should've waited upstairs!" She admonished.

"Abby, I can practically feel the ninja glaring at me every time I try to open my mouth! And her eyes were closed, Abby. Closed!" Tony animatedly replied. He was only exaggerating of course; the truth is, he badly needs something to distract him from the throbbing pain inside his skull. Very mild concussion, his ass. Not that it would be enough to deter him from holding off on those pain meds. He'd take headache over public humiliation any day. He'd rather gouge his eyes out than let McGee witness all the embarrassing things his doped mind could provide. Not to mention Ziva. Sure, she did seem weaker and quite sleepy back there, but he preferred not to take his chances.

"You haven't taken your medications, have you?" Abby asked, placing her hands on her hips like a reproachful mother.

Tony pulled Abby away from McGee's earshot and spoke in a low voice, "Abby do you have something that can numb the pain in my head without making me… " Tony bobbed his head from side to side and made a face. He can't think of the right word to describe his chemically-induced high.

"Idiotic? Senseless? Loopy?" Abby offered.

_Ouch._ That's harsh. But at least she caught his drift. "Yeah. Something like that. Do you?" He eyed her hopefully.

"I'm sorry Tony, I can think of a few, but by the time I finish concocting any of those, you won't be needing them anymore." Abby explained. "And I do not think those low grade painkillers will work for you. Your arm's pretty bad." Tony's shoulders fell before she could even finish speaking.

"Alrighty then." He gave her a sad smile. "Thanks anyway."

"Ask Ducky again. Maybe he can prescribe you with something else." Abby suggested.

Tony was undeniably in much pain. It was written all over his face. Without much of a choice, Abby harnessed her persuasion skills that could make everyone fold. Even Gibbs. She says out loud. "Hey, you just had a mild concussion and got tons of arm stitches to go with it, you should really take your pain medications."

"Yeah, Tony. I will regret this, but I do agree with Abby." McGee fished out the prescription bottle from his pocket and threw it to the senior field agent. "Here."

Tony caught the bottle with uninjured hand. He stared at it blankly for a long time, weighing the pros and cons of taking even a single pill. So far, the cons are winning. A lot.

As if reading his mind, McGee guaranteed him. "There will be no judgment."

Tony was not convinced.

McGee added, "no one else will know the details of what will transpire in the duration of your painkiller-stimulated haze, alright?" From the corner of Tim's eyes, he saw Abby's eyebrows arching up. Way up. He's so busted_._ "Alright. I wouldn't write anything about it, and take a video of it either. Happy?" The question was mostly directed to Abby than to Tony.

Abby grinned and watched Tony expectantly. She hoped he would finally give in and take his medicine once and for all.

"Fair enough." Tony let out a resigned sigh. "But not until I have showered and changed my clothes. I feel like a dumpster."

"You smell like it too." A familiar, yet slightly garbled voice pierced Tony's ears, making him jump. A soft chuckle can be heard in the background. Tony cast quick glances at all directions. The ninja was nowhere to be found. Damn concussion! First dizziness and headaches. Now he's hearing voices—of Ziva, no less. Not that he's complaining. At least it was not Gibbs' voice he's imagining. That'll as sure as hell be mental trauma for him.

"Toh-nee!" The voice called his attention again, making his eyes snap open in full alert. He looked behind him a second time. This concussion may be worse than he first thought.

"You cannot find me behind you, you idiot." She released a throaty laugh which was cut short by a muffled groan. A low unintelligible noise quickly followed. Another familiar voice spoke.

"We are on the phone, dear boy." He heard Ducky say, finally taking pity on him.

"How—" The question died on Tony's lips when he noticed that the light thingy on Abby's lab phone was indeed on, and it was on speakers. The red light on the said device blinked a couple more times, mocking him.

Tony mentally kicked his own face as he tried to redeem himself from his momentary stupidity, scowling at McGee in the process. The probie's grin was from ear to ear.

At least, he can always blame it on the concussion. "Of course, I know that, Duckman." If Tim dared to snort, chuckle, or laugh, there's gonna be blood.

"I seriously doubt that, Tony." Ziva's accented voice broke out again. It was a softer this time, like she's speaking from a distance. "You are at fault for McGee wanting to laugh at you. You are not to hurt him."

Great. She's sedated, yet she can still perceive his every thought. Talk about crazy ninja senses. Wait, did he even mention that she's currently a few floors above him—most probably with eyes slammed shut?

Ducky's voice took over the phone. "Abigail, have you finished analysing Agent David's blood? I'm badly needed by Mr. Palmer downstairs, you see. That boy can't seem to arrange the file room without me hovering around him like a hen to its chicks."

The medical examiner laughed softly as he went on, "I remembered a couple of decades ago my mother and I were asked by a neighbour to round up a flock of confused fowls. It is rather daunting, if I could say so myself… I was—" He trailed off as his story was drowned by a cacophony of umprompted dingings which, unsurprisingly, were immediately followed by Abby's excited squeals. Every working computer appeared to have found whatever it was they were looking for simultaneously. Reflexively, Tony and Tim took fleeting looks in every direction, with the former fighting the urge to throw up. All the head turnings made him almost a hundred times dizzier.

She read, "Ducky, Major Mass Spec found trace amounts of benzodiazepines in her blood. I'll put my money on lorazepam but not so much since there's a lot of other stuff in here. Good stuff. I mean... not good stuff for Ziva, since they are a lot. And when I say a lot I really mean a lot. Like a whole medicine cabinet of a druggie lot. Not that druggies keep medicine cabinets. Maybe so—"

"Abby." Tony called the goth's attention, who was obviously caught in a babbling haze.

"Right." Abby slowed, realizing that she was babbling a hundred words a second. "Where was I—ah, that and around five or six more other low dose sedatives, including a tinge of Rohypnol."

Both agents' eyes widened in shock. "What?" They questioned in unison. A few floors up, Ducky's eyebrows arched as well.

Abby continued, unperturbed. If only Ziva hadn't fallen victim into her drug tripping, the goth would probably be amazed by that woman's mixing prowess. "Weighing in all of those compounds' half lives, their levels in her system, the time she most probably took it, her estimated weight and metabolic rate, I'd say it's…Woah. Woah. Woah." Abby jumped away from the screen and stared at it in utmost incredulity. She even took a double take and rubbed her eyes. "Ziva?" She called out cautiously.

They all heard a subdued 'Yes?' from the other end of the line. Judging from voice, Ziva sounded barely lucid.

Abby almost grabbed the whole communication console. She half stuttered and half yelled in disbelief. "How come you're still awake?" However, she immediately regretted saying those words once they left her mouth. Her brain flashed back to a few years ago. Somalia. The coerced trips to the shrink. All those anti-depressants. _Stupid Abby. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_ The goth mentally kicked herself.

Seconds passed but still no response came. No one spoke from either end so Tony finally decided to break the silence. With a nice little witticism, of course. "Well, what do you expect? She's Ziva, after all. Among the rest of us, she'll probably be the only one running around on a gas attack. Like a cockroach after a nuclear bomb." The hesitation in his voice was not totally obscured by his cheery tone.

Tim was eagerly expecting the tranquilizer-infused Israeli to throw back a witty quip at Tony, just to shut him up. It never came. Instead, Ducky's steady voice filled the air. His tone lost all its vigor. This change didn't go unnoticed. In fact, it totally affected the once chirpy mood in the lab. Tony looked rather grim. Even Abby seemed to have lost all her energy. Ducky mumbled flatly, "How long will those substances be in her system before they fully dissociate?"

"Sixteen hours at least." Abby replied sadly. Though her ex-Mossad friend never mentioned it, she knew she had taken a lot of similar drugs in the past—after that dreadful stint of hers in Africa. It's possible she had developed tolerance to anti-anxiety-slash-anti-depressant drugs.

"Ha! Ziva will be completely at my mercy for 16 whole hours, I can't wait." Tony burst into laughter as he tried to lift the mood again. This time, it has finally reached his eyes.

Abby grinned as well. She made herself think of other things aside from Ziva's post-Somalian PTSD. Like Timmy's nanny duties, for instance. Which reminds her…

She threw a quick glance at the window. It was almost sunset. Taking care of a heavily drugged Ziva and a well awake—yet loopy—Tony at the same time, alone, for the whole night, will be no walk in the park.

It's really going to be a long night for McGee.

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><p><strong>Reviews are welcome. Thanks for reading.<strong>

Why do people lose consciousness after a concussion?

_Concussions happen when an object (usually blunt ones), hit a person's head, causing sudden deceleration. This leads to movement or perhaps "shaking" of the cerebral hemispheres. Since these hemispheres are attached to a relatively fixed part of the brainstem, movement causes an electrical dysfunction in the reticular activating system (the part of the brainstem that controls wakefulness), leading to loss of consciousness. Most people with concussion have normal CT scan and MRI results. Usually, concussions aren't treated with opiates (or other drugs that make people loopy) since they hinder in the neurologic evaluation and alter a person's mental status. In fact, the drug of choice is usually just Acetaminophen. But remember that in our story, Tony has a fractured bone too, and a simple Acetaminophen won't cut it._


	5. The Nutter and the Gutter

"You do not have to carry me McGee." Ziva protested grumpily for the third time. Her objections would have probably gained some merit if her feeble voice was not failing her. That and her wobbly knees. And unfocused eyes. And clouded thoughts. Basically her entire body was failing her. As if her being drugged was not enough embarrassment for her already.

McGee smiled sweetly, then teased, "Would you prefer being in Tony's arms?" Oh boy, he was starting to enjoy this. Any other time and Ziva would've strangled him.

The senior field agent trailing behind practically felt his ears flutter with the mention of his name. He offered his arms. "I would carry you to my castle, m'lady, but I'm a little unarmed—pun very much intended."

"Shut up." She muttered in a huff. Her words were muffled by McGee's soft Armani jacket as her face was slightly pushed down into it. McGee was trying to open the back passenger door of the Charger. Because her face was buried under the expensive clothing of her co-worker, no one noticed her wince in pain. Which is a good thing, she thought. No one is supposed to know her little 'incident' less than a week ago. Especially since it involved a knife and a drunken minor.

Tony tapped McGee's shoulders and whispered in a conspiratory tone. He made sure it was loud enough for Ziva to hear. "Come _on,_ McChivalrous! We talked about this! I thought we are going to shove her into the trunk?"

"Her incapacitation is only temporary, Tony." Tim warned impassively, looking at his watch. "You only have fifteen hours."

"Fourteen and 'alf." Ziva slurred out.

McGee smirked, as he carefully positioned his drugged co-worker on the backseat. She was limply lying down with her right forearm covering her eyes. McGee handed her Abby's farting hippo, which she accepted gratefully, yet quite blindly. The stinging on her side was starting to alarm her.

But how on earth could she feel the stinging? She has been drugged with meds designed to take away pain already, for crying out loud!

"Are you okay there, Ziva?" McGee's question pulled her out of her headspace.

"Yes, 'mm fine." She lied. "Thank you."

As McGee closed the door by her feet, he heard Ziva speak. The window was left open. "For the record, I am… not incapacitated." The slurring in her voice was remarkably reduced. Lying down really did help. McGee smirked.

"Of course you are incapacitated, Zee-vah!" Tony proclaimed loudly. He basically yelled it for the entire parking lot to hear. "I can finally torment you to tears without the fear of any immediate physical harm! For fourteen and a half hours straight!" That was not completely true, since he has to promised take his pain meds in a few hours. He'll surely be incoherent and disoriented the whole night—he'll even stake his mighty mouse stapler on it. And by the time everything in his befuddled brain gets cleared up…

He doesn't even want to think about what will happen to him next.

"You are enjoying this." Ziva stated dully. All she wanted to do is to throttle the daylights out of his overly enthusiastic partner. And then perhaps curl up in a fetal position and die. The pain wasn't supposed to be this bad. Did she pop a stitch or something?

Tony grinned from ear to ear; he was clearly unaware of her brewing dilemma. He leaned at the open window. "You betcha."

Ziva grunted in frustration and buried her face into the flatulent stuffed animal. Save for the funny farting noise, she almost looked miserable. She clearly hated being weak. She would much rather be in pain.

Funny that fate decided to be quite generous that day.

"Can't go homicidal on me now, can you?" Tony prodded mockingly. "I will—"

A familiar squeal stopped Tony from uttering another word.

"Guys! Guys! _Guys_! Wait up! I'm coming with you." A jumpy black mass emerged from the security gates at such a rapid pace. Her platforms nearly squished one of the security personnel's feet. Good thing the poor guy managed to move away in time.

She was struggling to pass the metal detectors. Because of the amount of stuff she's carrying, she was forced to walk sideways through it.

McGee stared at her incredulously and yelled, "Abby?"

"Who else do you think I am, Muh-gee?" The forensic scientist shouted back as she cantered towards their car. She huffily passed her things to a thoroughly flabbergasted McGee. He yelped at their weight. Who wouldn't? Saying she brought a lot of stuff maybe an understatement. She placed three or four medium sized silver briefcases—each weighs like a ton—into his arms before finally topping them with her favourite black ruffled parasol.

Regardless of the excessive luggage, McGee was really grateful for her support. He was awfully touched.

He barely noticed how long he stood frozen.

"McGee?" Abby moved to his side and flicked her fingers near his ear. In her best Gibbs' voice, she hollered, "Special Agent Timothy McGee!"

He jumped, almost dropping his load. "What?"

"Very smooth, Tim. Very smooth." Tony broke into laughter. Abby was giggling as well.

McGee ignored him. Instead, he peered over the mountainous stack of cases on his arms. Almost tearfully, he burbled, "You're really gonna help me, Abs?"

Abby eyed both guys sternly, "You really don't think I will let either of you change Ziva's clothes, do you?"

"Actually, Abby I was kinda looking forward to—." Tony began, but halted mid-sentence when he felt the goth's fiery forensic glare.

Ziva muttered weakly in the background. She has been listening. "Mind off the curb, DiNozzo."

"Gutter, Zee-vah! Mind off the gutter!" Tony corrected his drowsy partner. He then moved to Abby and whispered. "You're a real buzz-kill, Abs."

Abby smiled. "I came to please."

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><p><strong>For everyone who had reviewed this fic, and had reached this far... THANK YOU! You guys are awesome! <strong>

_**I'll be finishing my internal medicine rotation in a few days, so I'll be able to update this one (and my other story, "Hold") more often. By the way, does anyone know when the trailer for Cote's movie "The 33" will be released? **_

_**Thank you again for reading :)**_


	6. The Conked and the Zonked

**Disclaimer: NCIS is not mine. But all mistakes in this fic are. (How sad is that?)**

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><p>"Why are you cradling my head again?" Ziva hissed in absolute annoyance. Tony has been playing with her hair ever since McGee revved the car. And it has been a long time since then. She is well aware that even the most fundamental task of moving her arms forward felt like a thousand times more arduous than it should, so wasting the little energy she has on wielding her switchblade against her insufferable partner's neck—no matter how tempted she was to do so—seemed to be a moot point.<p>

"Because you can't do anything about it?" Tony offered. He was already grinning deviously before he said it. "Don't even bother try unleashing that ninja glare of death at me, my deadly assassin. You can barely keep your eyes open."

Ziva clenched her fist—at least; she tried to—at that remark. Her brain is fuming, but she cannot find a decent outlet for it.

_Someone will die tomorrow, _she promised herself. _Slowly._

Some other time thinking of ways that could effectively wipe the smile of his partner's face may calm her, but her body was serene enough as it is, so her usual violence-induced tranquillity might be a little redundant.

All thanks to that trinket swarmed tutu woman. She can't wait to show her how thankful she can be the next time she sees her.

"Let me guess, death by strangulation?" Tony stated with utmost certainty. Knowing his partner, she's surely thinking of ways to seek vengeance from him by now.

She ignored him. Better that than give him the chance to brag about being right.

To her joy, he bragged about it nonetheless. "I'm right, am I? Of course I am." His eyes were full of mischief as he spoke. "Personally, I'm more of a death by bullet kind of guy, quicker but more dramatic, but sure, if strangulation is your choice, feel free to grab my neck anytime. Hell, you can grab me anywhere anytime."

He paused, cringing at the way his words came out. "That… sounded better in my head."

She aimed for a surprised look, but she was not sure if she pulled it off right. "Oh, so you have a head now?" She asked weakly.

"Nice try for a witty quip there, but it won't deter me." His grin was smug. Then he lowered his head to her ear, and teasingly whispered, "I am a man with a plan. Ask me what it is." He stared at her expectantly.

She didn't move an inch. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep he would eventually tire himself into shutting up.

Tony wiggled his legs to get her attention. He obviously wasn't buying her act. "Come on! Work with me here."

Ziva was not sure if she was supposed to laugh or sneer at that, so she simply decided to humour him. She whispered back. "What is it then?"

"I am cutting you a deal."

"What makes you think I will be inter'sted with that deal?"

The slurring in her words made him smile. It's downright cute. "If I say it involves murder?"

"Whose?" She asked.

He swallowed hard. "Mine."

"'m list'ning. Go on."

"I'm allowing you to kill me tomorrow. I won't object."

"Will still kill you ev'n if _you_ _object_."

"Hey, Zee-vah, please. For argument's sake, let's say my opinion counts." He said, taking mock offense.

Ziva stubbornly replied, "Doesnn'ttt. You called me a cockroach."

"Wait, was that a slur or a contraction?" He interrupted. "And for your information, I did not call you a cockroach. I was merely making a comparison of your strengths."

She ignored him and feigned slumber once more.

"I am looking down at you sternly right now." The senior field agent didn't even bother conjuring a real stern look. She won't see it, anyway. She may have more senses than Haley Joel Osment's character in the Sixth Sense, but a drugged ninja with eyes closed is a still drugged ninja with eyes closed.

"No you are nottt..." She stated with certainty, well, as much certainty as a sedated person can. For one moment, his fingers froze from toying with her hair.

"How—" He began, but was cut off immediately. How did she fucking do that?

"Guessed." She smiled almost imperceptibly. "Jussstt proved I am rrriight."

It always amazes him when she does that. Without having anything else to say, Tony went back on toying with Ziva's hair. He gathered small locks of her hair with his fingers, and brushed them against her nose. Her face contorted in irritation every time he did that. To make matters worse, he saw her annoyance as an encouragement.

Ziva gave in as she evaded another attack from her own hair. "Fine, ssooo your opinion counts. Hypothetically." She added the last word before he could even gloat. Except that it sounded more like _i-po-te-tic-clyy. _"How would I be implicated by that?"

"Um. Good question." He paused to think. Her slurring waxes and wanes. _F__antastic._ One moment she sounds cute, one moment downright scary.

"Whatttt?" she enquired impatiently.

His plan was going to be more difficult to do than he thought. How on earth would he ask her to let him not take his pain medications when he himself could tell how much he needed it? Besides, Tim and Abby are also listening. Those two would surely not side with him. Maybe he should simply ask Ziva later.

"M'waiting…"

_Ok, DiNozzo, think. Think of a joke. Or something useful. Anything._

"Tohh-neee." Ziva, whose thought process is already on the fritz as it is, called out. She was starting to think that maybe she had just imagined their whole conversation. "Have we been talk—"

"Can I kiss you?" He blurted out without preamble. That's the best thing he could come up with, given the circumstances. He needed to distract McAbby off the topic of his and Ziva's potential deal—which he stupidly opened up without considering the spectators surrounding them. They do not need to know the favor he's gonna ask from Ziva. Hell, they are the reasons why he was enlisting her help in the first place.

Ziva felt her stomach churn. His erratic subject jumps are giving her whiplash. _Where did that come from?_

The question did immediately caught Abby's attention. Her head excitedly turned towards the two passengers at the back. The goth's eyes is a mixture of shock and excitement. And utmost unbridled delight. _Are those two? Really?_

McGee, on the other hand, almost got the car squished by a container van. They zigzagged twice before he finally manoeuvred it back to its due course. The probie muttered a curse. "I would love to apologize for almost totalling our car, but I was too astonished to bother." Of course he knows the question was a joke. It is a joke, right?

Tony was conked real good.

"'cuse me?" Ziva asked carefully. She might not be her usual self, but she knows a serious question when she hears one. Maybe Tony has been more concussed than he is letting on. She sincerely hoped not.

"What will you do if I kiss you right now?" Tony asked more slowly, phrasing the question differently this time. He emphasized every word while maintaining a straight and very serious face. He leaned closer, their noses almost touching...

_Reallly, DiNozzo? _Tim thought to himself, shaking his head._ With the rate you're going, your grave will be reaching China in no time. _

Abby watched silently and intently by the sidelines. Good thing she didn't let them leave her at the Navy Yard. The action in the backseat was proving itself more exciting than waiting for a fingerprint match from AFIS—which was already very exciting. And topping that on Abby's list of exciting things to watch is almost an impossible feat.

McGee listened on—but with a promise that he wouldn't be caught off guard again by one of Tony's jokes while he's behind the wheel. He should admit, Tony's jokes are always well-planned and perfectly executed. If only he does not usually land on the receiving end of it, he'd probably be constantly entertained.

He's so good he almost got Abby believing in him, McGee thought, but then again, that's Abby. She's holds an entirely different category.

Lucky for McGee, he hasn't glanced at the rear view mirror yet.

Ziva finally popped one eye open. With a little more effort than she cared to admit, that's for sure. She was expecting to see her concussed partner grinning, or maybe even biting his own tongue to keep himself from cracking up. But when she saw his oh-I-am-serious-and-not-just-messing-with-you face, she almost choked, "Wh—what? Are you high?"

"Nu-uh. Not yet. No." He shook his head all too fervently she'd be dim if she saw it as normal. Which she didn't. Still, his face is too close for comfort. "Not high. _You're_ high!"

"Hey." Ziva called his attention, her blood temperature falling a couple of degrees. She tried to stop his still shaking head, but her attempt proved itself pointless. The arms she was once so proud of having long succumbed under the influence of mélange ala benzos. "Hey,Tony. Look at me."

He did look, but his eyes were unseeing. That much she could tell. He was still shaking his head.

She turned pale and quickly glanced at Abby with apprehension, "Tell me I am imagining this."

The goth could only gape.

Before Abby could think of something that resembles a response, Tony stared Ziva down. Actually, it's more like staring her down blankly. Like his mind drifted to another world.

_What are we talking about again? _He heard himself ask. He felt like he was bouncing on and off a perplexing little haze. His brain goes adrift one second, then all of a sudden, he's coherent again.

Well, sort of. _Come on!_ One can't be too coherent after a concussion. Even if they say it's mild.

"Hey!" Ziva wanted to chastise him for taking the joke—or whatever it was he was trying to pull—too far. If he was indeed joking, and not losing his mind to concussion, that is. Lucky for him, he just survived massive bludgeoning a few hours ago so she will let that slide. That serious look is really scaring the hell out of her.

He wanted to keep looking at her that way—to unhinge her a bit more off that sedated, yet still kick-ass persona of hers—but realized that the longer he kept that face, the worse his headache becomes.

"McGee, I think we need to go to the hospital. He's quite under the storm." Ziva said with worry. A sudden burst of adrenaline seemed to overpower her language difficulties (the non-idiom related part of language, at least) "Tony does not look alright—he does not sound alright."

With that, Tony started cracking up—albeit in a slightly pretentious way. He is just not one hundred percent certain that no one noticed. Nonetheless, he's sure he got away with a few microscopic grimaces as he concealed them with laughter. Though he wouldn't admit it, his head did hurt pretty bad. "No, I'm perfect, Tim. Just avoid those trucks and I'll be fine."

_Liar_.

"No. Turn the car around. Tony obviously needs medical attention." Ziva insisted.

Tim was already prepping for a turn when Tony spoke again. Louder and more authoritative this time. "Tim, I have mild concussion, whereas our Israeli junkie here got a whole pharmaceutical company coursing through her veins. Whose judgment do you think deserves consideration here?

"Seriously?" If Tony didn't know better, he'd think Tim's response was nothing but unfriendly condescension. "I'd still go with Ziva."

"Thank you, McGee." Ziva smiled.

"But..." Tim went on, "For old times' sake, I will give Tony this one."

Ziva could not believe Tim actually sided with DiNozzo with this. Open mouthed and shocked, she huffed, "What? You believe him?"

"Ah, so probie likes me. I'm touched." Tony teased their designated driver. "Remind me to find some little probie snacks for you first thing tomorrow."

"He has already been cleared by a doctor earlier." Tim clarified. He let that sink in for a few seconds, then he shot a glance at the rear view mirror. He eyed the senior field agent tiredly. "Believe me, the moment you show again any indications of losing your mind further—if that were even possible—I'd personally drag you to the hospital and gladly leave you there."

"That won't happen. I am perfectly fine." Tony assured Tim. Truth be told, the probie was not really the target of that reassurance.

Ziva was not able to detect how much pain his partner was in—at least, not from his face. Her eyes are too blurry for that. What she did notice is Tony's arm (arm, singular, since the other one is on a sling) slightly tensing over her shoulder. Regardless of her current state, she still knew what he was trying to do: Masquerading his pain with jokes and laughter.

She does not like that one bit. Only if she was not too sleepy...

Her mind drifted for a few seconds before Tony pulled her out of her thoughts with a slight shake. He grumbled jokingly, "Agent David, I am your Senior Field Agent and you are in no position to doze on me. Especially when I am talking to you! I find it immensely disrespectful!"

Abby took that opportunity to share her thoughts. "Actually, Tony, in a manner of speaking, Ziva _is_ in a position to doze on you. She, after all, is lying down." She beamed impishly. "On your lap."

McGee laughed at that. But he immediately bit his tongue when he saw Ziva frowning from the rear view mirror. If her dizziness was only half of what it was then, she probably would've gone to borderline rage already.

Ziva mumbled, "I have still got knives on my person, you know." She obviously said that loud enough for Tim to hear.

The probie's eyes jumped back to the busy street faster than a nanosecond.

"And I've got handcuffs." Tony whispered to Ziva using a fake perverted voice. He suddenly remembered her nice little threat regarding paperclips, and the numerous ways she could take someone's life with them. He added in Italian, "Wanna know how many ways I could use them on you?"

"I could flay you right now." The ninja roared—in her own wobbly way, which was a definite English slur-fest. She tried to wiggle her way out of his grasp, but he would not budge. Ziva did not even notice that she has replied in Italian as well. The two jumped to that language without missing a beat. Abby and Tim were forced to give up their eavesdropping.

He gently stroked the side of her face with his index finger as he spoke. "That is if you have a knife…" He muttered. "…which you don't, m'lady." The gesture sent shivers right down her spine.

Ziva ran her hands around her waist weakly. She also moved her legs around to feel the blade buried in her boot. They were indeed missing. _Impossible_. "How—"

Tony cut in, reading the blatant question pooling in her eyes. "You're not the only person with skills, Dah-veed." Actually, he enlisted Abby's help to go get them as Ziva dozed a few minutes ago.

"Fine." Ziva breathed out in defeat. She is too much in a jelly state to argue. "What do you want?"

"Besides handcuffing you?" He pressed his luck further. Chances of taunting her like this may not come again for years. After all, a tremendous teasing of a completely mobile ninja will always be of poor taste. "In a closed quarters? All night?"

Ziva scowled at him. "The earliest chance I get, I would—"

"Do what?" He smiled widely. Then he goaded further, drawing out the last word, "Frown at me 'til I wither?"

"You will know when we get _there_." She went for a sultry tone, but it came up short. Based on her usual standards, of course. "But surely, I will do something you will... neverrr... forget."

"_Re__ee__ally?"_ He shifted back to English without noticing. Too much time with Ziva has influenced him in mixing his languages occasionally. "You would do that?"

"Oh, I would." She replied, smiling slyly. "That and much… much more."

Tony raised his eyebrows at her, chuckling. "I don't think you could do much in that state of yours" He grabbed the hand she placed on his face. "Me, on the other hand…"

"Is that a challenge?" Ziva questioned him, a little louder than she intended. She has unknowingly switched back to English as well, making Abby's ears flutter happily. She isn't actually sticking her nose into her co-workers' business. The backseat of a car is hardly a private place to talk after all. And it is not as if she could stop herself from hearing things. She actually could, when she thinks of it—with her iPod and all—but that was beside the point.

McGee almost missed a turn at Ziva's sudden—yet very much comprehensible—outburst. He swerved again, but he managed to bring the car right back on track just in time. What he did miss is Tony's grimace as he felt his concussed brain make a back flip inside his skull.

"Can you repeat that?" Tony asked Ziva, gulping, and genuinely confused. "I didn't quite get what you said."

"I think you did." That sultry smile reappeared on her face.

"No, I didn't." He insisted, sporting a grin-cringe combo. "But I sure get the general picture."

Abby's head sprung out of the front seat. "Betting against each other is a very dangerous game, my loyal co-workers..." She nodded ardently to reinforce her point. Her pigtails became even more bouncy.

"I have to agree to that." McGee butted in, all his fear for his life forgotten. Thanks to Tony, and whatever the hell he did; Ziva's knives have gone MIA.

"Dangerous?" Tony asked curiously. Then he feigned being in deep thought. "I like dangerous. I seek danger... I feed on danger. But look at this small figure on my lap…" He gestured towards Ziva. "...does this poor peaceful creature spell any threats to you?"

She closed her eyes in irritation. For sure, a violent reprisal would not help her case. Her arrogant partner would only gloat about not feeling a thing if she ever chose to elbow him or something.

She counted one to ten, slowly. Her annoyance ebbed a little. However, it was not enough to make her feel any better.

"Tony, don't push it." McGee warned, finally hearing enough. His voice was full of unexplainable undertones. Though he is quite disgusted by the images that flooded his head along with that idea, his need for taunting DiNozzo won him over. "You might get hurt."

'Or killed.' Ziva mentally added quietly in affirmation.

Abby caught Tim's teasing implication, alright. But the goth willed herself not to react. This is very hard to do, especially in her case. In fact, she literally had to hold her lips together to keep whatever she wanted to say to herself.

Tony ignored the probie altogether, but he noticed that Abby's having a difficulty with something. "Abby, you've got anything to say?"

Abby pondered about that for a while. Sure, she wanted to say something. But that doesn't mean she will be saying it. She may be immune to death threats as of the moment, but what she will say may just put her name on top of Ziva's hitlist. She shook her head with ardour. "Nu-uh, not saying anything."

"You sure?" Tony asked again. He's definitely not buying his friend's pigtail-reinforced denial. "You seem like you do."

Abby smirked, and put her earphones back on. "What are you expecting me to say, anyway?"

"Well, if you put it that way…" Tony drifted off as he noticed McGee making a wrong turn. He bellowed at their designated driver, "Proh-baay!" He inched a little bit forward, careful not to drop the ninja from his lap. "Where the hell do you think you're taking us? There is no way this road will lead us anywhere near your place!"


	7. The Move at the Stop

"I'm stopping for food." Tim replied in an overly polite manner as was manoeuvring the car into a tight parking space. "People do that, you know."

"You should've warned us before you went on careening to the everglades." Tony countered grumpily. He badly needed a bed right now, and surprisingly, his brain didn't go where it usually goes whenever the subject of bed comes up—which is a bad sign. All he wanted to do is sleep, which, unfortunately, he cannot do for quite a while. Thanks to the crook who bashed his head (and arm) to an almost oblivion.

"A grocery store is hardly the everglades, Tony." Abby butted in. "And we're not in Florida."

"But it could be—alligator shoppers, vermin-like little children, housewife manatees. How close to a subtropical wetland do you wanna be?" He cringed at the thought. "I hate groceries. All those colourful containers and cans make me dizzy."

"Sounds about right coming from a guy who treats buying takeout like a sport." Tim replied before turning off the engine and alighting the car. He peered back in, "I will be right back, and do not do anything stupid. And don't you dare sleep."

Tony pointed at himself innocently. _Me? Doing a stupid thing? Nah._

"Yes, Tony. I am talking to you." Tim affirmed like a strict parent. He noticed that Ziva was already sound asleep, so in a low voice he added, "Be a gentleman, Tony."

"I'll watch them for you, Timmy." Abby assured him as she adjusts the rear view mirror. She now could see the two without craning her neck all the way back.

"I am always a gentleman." The senior field agent defended indignantly. However, it went to deaf ears because the McNanny has already pushed the door shut. Tim seemed to take his babysitting job so seriously. Perhaps he was still faulting himself for that slip-up with Ziva earlier that morning. It wasn't his fault, when he came to think of it. It could happen to anyone, if anything, he was even glad that it was not him that Ziva was with when that incident came about. He might not take it as well as McGee does.

Tim walked off. And as he was halfway through the entrance, Abby suddenly remembered something. She rolled the window on her side and yelled, "Tim, Tim, Tim!" He did not turn, nor flinch. He went on walking, so Abby called out again, "Timothy McGee!"

He obviously didn't hear her.

"What's the matter Ms. Scuito? Forgot something?" DiNozzo asked using his perfected suave tone. What wasn't suave is the fact that he was unknowingly toying with Ziva's lower lip with his thumb. It wasn't suave at all.

"My Caf-Pow." The goth replied though pouted lips, and it was all she got to say for him to realize the weight of her dilemma.

"Go." His voice was surprisingly reassuring. "We'll be fine."

"Yeah, sure, I can see that." Abby suspiciously eyed Tony's fingers as they toy with Ziva's lips. The senior field agent immediately jerked back, and then raised both of his hands in surrender.

"I've got nothing to do with that." Tony swore. "My hands... it must be the concussion."

The forensic scientist didn't completely buy that. However, on the grand scheme of things as of the moment, her need for caffeine had more credence. "Right."

"Really, Abbs. We'll be fine." Tony guaranteed her.

"Okay. But promise me you won't sleep." Her ability to imitate Gibbs' stare was kinda creepy. And it was almost as scary as her ability to swing from one mood to another. She grinned, "I'll be back in a jiffy."

With that, she left. Leaving him alone with his thoughts. And yeah, with his partner on his lap.

Yeah, talk about awkward.

It is just then when he realized how immature that sounded. He's a grown up man, for crying out loud. He sighed deeply.

"This reminds you again of a movie, am I correct?" Ziva asked out of nowhere. Tony almost jumped out of his seat in surprise, nearly swallowing his own tongue.

If he weren't used to being stunned by her from time to time—meaning every time—he'd probably jumped off his skin a long time ago. That and the swallowed tongue surely wouldn't make a very nice looking DiNozzo. He will look so scary even Gibbs will cringe at the sight of him.

Okay, maybe not.

"No actually, it doesn't. How long have you been awake?" Tony asked in utmost disbelief.

"I was not sleeping."

She sure changes his notion about drugged women. "Of course you weren't. I mean, why would you be? You are right there, being all comfy on my lap with eyes closed... Even sleeping beauty wouldn't be sleeping!"

"Your sarcasm is noted." She said flatly.

"I wasn't being sarcastic." He defended. "And I just called you a beauty. You're welcome, by the way."

"So you are trying to be funny then?"

"Yes." He cringes after realizing how pathetic that sounded. He has a natural sense of humor. He never has to TRY to be funny. It is a part of his nature. Like Bond and his gun, Spock and his pointy ears, Freddy Kruger and his… thing, whatever it is that he has. "No. I wasn't trying to be funny."

"You asked me to if you can kiss me." Conversing with nothing but cool disinterest was her thing. She practically was raised to do it, among other stuff. She just hoped she was able to pull that off this time.

"I did?" Tony asked, feigning innocence, but his memory of that particular detail was as clear as day. The real question was why on earth he asked her that. Surely, there are other safer questions out there he could pick. He could've simply asked her opinion about morning pancakes. Or maybe—

Oh, geez. That question won't do either. He might as well ask her to have sex right then and there.

_What the hell is happening to him? _

Tony backpedalled before he could bury himself some more. "Oh yeah." He acted as if he just remembered it himself "I guess I did."

"Why?"

The cool gust of the air conditioning announced its presence for the first time. It made him shiver. "Why not? You have lips, I have lips, and it's pleasant." He reasoned. "You didn't give an answer."

"I guess not." She might not notice it, but her voice started slurring again.

Picking up where his question left off, he asked again, "So, given that once in a lifetime chance of locking lips twice with a DiNozzo…"

"Give me more drugs, then we will talk."

"Ha ha." He was not entirely sure why he asked that, and he's thankful she did not take it seriously. However, he does not understand why her answer still stung. "I'd say I was offended, but I've been rejected enough to even consider being hurt."

Hearing his reply alarmed her at first—her shoulder tensed slightly. She thought she struck a nerve somewhere, but when she looked at him, his smile seemed genuine. Nonetheless, she would not risk digging into healed wounds. Instead of delving deeper into the subject, she took their conversation on a different route, "What if I said yes?"

Tony looked deeply into her eyes and tapped her chin with his index finger. Then, taking a page from her book, he replied, "I guess you'll never know."

They stared at each other down for a long time. Surprisingly, it was Ziva who gave up first.

"What is the deal you were talking about earlier?" She asked, changing the subject. "Before you asked me...um, if I, you know?"

Oh, he almost forgot about that. "Well..."

"McGee and Abby will come back any time soon." She reminded him.

"Impatient much? Geez." Tony felt as if he was a deer caught in the headlights. Of course she knows that his stupid question was only a distraction for Abby and Tim. She's too perceptive to miss it.

"I am wai—"

Before she could finish what she was saying, he quickly blurted out, "I won't be taking my pain meds and I want you to vouch for me." Tony knew that Tim promised Ducky that he would make sure that Tony takes his pain medication. Knowing Tim, he might even make him swallow his pills right in front of everyone.

Ziva knew where this conversation would go, but she asked nonetheless, "Vouch how? And why?"

"It's pretty simple, actually. All you've gotta do is nod when Tim or Abby asks you if I have taken my meds." He explained. "I'll take care of all the talking."

"No." Ziva replied without missing a beat.

"No?" He pouted like a child and pleaded. "Even if I say please?"

"What is wrong with taking your pain medications?"

"What is NOT wrong about it?" He countered.

"Is this still because of that video that George from Accounting posted on Youtube when you had your nose broken?" She asked, her tone made it sound as if it was not a big deal. Well, it was not a big deal to her. Her partner here; however...

"NO!" He blurted out defensively. After a few beats, the new information sunk in to his brain. "Wait—what video?"

Damn.

She looked at him and smiled innocently. With her current state, he will have a very good chance of defeating her at her own game.

"Special Agent David, your senior field agent is asking you a question."

In an attempt to distance herself away from her silly slip up, she deflected, "I am very dizzy at the moment, mister senior field agent. I am in no position to talk." _Uh, shit._ Damn drugs, she cannot think straight.

"Dizzy, huh? I could've sworn you said you said you were okay." _Ha! I knew it! I know she isn't feeling peachy. Ninjas aren't immune to chemical compounds. _

She was thinking so much about evading the question she forgot she is supposed to be 'fine'. Vowing to herself that it would not happen again, she quipped, "I actually did not say I was not dizzy."

He felt an overwhelming urge to slap her at the back of the head—good naturedly, of course. However, given her current state and position, he dismissed the thought quickly. "Wise ass."

"Let me remind you Agent DiNozzo that I am completely capable of killing you without a weapon."

He countered, "Let me remind you Agent David that you are 'very dizzy at the moment'; ergo…" Ergo? When did he start using words like 'ergo'? Is McDictionary finally rubbing off on him? He seriously hoped not. A DiNozzo does not run around saying words like _ergo_.

"Ergo, what?" She stared at him with narrowed eyes. He looked away, pretending not to hear her.

Without thinking, Tony slapped her on the hip to silence her. Well, it's more than lightly, actually. She would be furious for sure. No one hits this ninja without experiencing her wrath. He took a nervous glance at her.

She was wincing. Her jaws were tightly clenched, too. In fury? This will be good. His partner is at her cutest when she's angry. Of course, he's not pertaining to the angry-angry variety. That would be immensely catastrophic. "Ziva?" Tony mumbled carefully.

"What?" She asked between gritted teeth. The pain radiating from her side was excruciating. That small stabbing incident was almost a week ago already. It is not supposed to hurt like this.

"Are you in pain?" The more he looks at her, the more he realizes how dumb that question was. It is clearly showing in her face. There's no question in that.

She cringed, muttering a strained 'no'. She took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. Her wince didn't disappear, though—not that she knows about it. "My world is spinning, that is all."

"Ziva." Tony's voice had a warning ring to it.

"Tony, I am fine." She stressed irately.

Whatever it was, he's not buying it. In fact, that was the exact reason why he did what he did next…


	8. The Pleasure in the Pain

If there is one person who Tony knows can pass off agonizing pain as a pinch from a toddler, it's Super Ninja Ziva. For years and years since they worked together, he has been certain of that little snippet of reality. In fact, the closest reaction she had expressed to address pain, with him as a witness, is a grunt. And maybe an occasional hiss. Yeah, Ziva David had hissed in pain. Big Deal.

Was it worth mentioning that that said hissing episode only happened after she was bludgeoned by a rogue CIA assassin-turned serial killer who has killed already in every known continent populated by man? Well, perhaps except Africa—unless he also had a victim there that wasn't reported. That is a very convincing possibility he should get into sometime.

Bottomline is, Ziva had never cried out in pain… until then. And it was more than what Tony's poor little heart could take.

"Hey, what's going on?" Tony's asked her carefully. He was beginning to panic. "Are you alright?"

All the response he got was a low groan.

Truth be told, the word groan did not compute to the sound that has just escaped her lips. A groan was too tame of a word. The state she appeared in surely did not help one bit. She looked like she's being gutted from inside out. Completing her look, and making things more complicatedly alarming are what seemed like beginnings of a tear forming in her eyes.

"Whaa—" Tony's previously unstoppable mouth found itself at a sudden loss for words. A mixture of confusion, worry, and guilt ran through his face. What did he just do exactly? He merely tapped her hip! His two year old second cousin had slapped his face much harder than that.

He stared at his partner for two more seconds—wide eyed and tongue tied—before he managed to let out another word. "Ziva?"

She did not respond. Judging by the look on her face, she couldn't even if she wanted to.

With all the presence of mind left in him, which is, by the way, almost inexistent, he was able to remember that there is still one person who could help him right then. A person with a much calmer brain, and a medical degree to boot.

His hand was almost halfway inside his pocket to get his phone when he realized something.

_Something is wrong with this picture_.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And then another. Maybe what he just saw is just a bad ploy designed by his gnawing concussion. Half of his brain is still rejecting the thought that his ninja is in pain, to begin with. No—make that his entire brain. It was quite unbelievable, if he could say so himself. Hell, she took a couple of freaking sedatives and perhaps some painkillers and godknowswhat; those are supposed to prevent pain—not to make her writhe because of it.

He slowly opened one of his eyes and peeked at his partner face.

_Nope. Still in pain. _

Oh. Crap.

Panic has finally settled in, now jumbling his thoughts more than he cares to admit. _She needs Ducky. Ducky can help her. Ducky is a doctor._ "I... I—I'm gonna call Ducky." He stammered, fishing out his phone from his pocket. What in jesus' name got into him, hitting Ziva's hip once more when she was already obviously hurt when he did so the first time?

His fingers were shaking while he skimmed for the Duckman's number in his contact list. He really wanted to kick himself right then and there—being all panicky over his clearly distressed ninja partner—with him being a sworn federal agent and all. Anthony DiNozzo never panics under duress. It is duress that panics under Anthony DiNozzo.

Well, that is obviously not so true anymore. But that's not important right now. What he needs is a doctor.

A doctor, who by some unfortunate circumstance, cannot pick his up his phone as of the moment—that is, if the voicemail Tony got was any indication.

"_This is Doctor Donald Mallard, Chief Medical Examiner of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Pardon me for not being able to entertain your call at this hour. Perhaps I am currently occupied with someone whose killer is yet to be located—although I do not think it is necessary for me to bore you with the details of the said demise's death. No matter, I will return your call as soon as I am free of my—_"

And the line went off. As it appeared, Ducky forgot the limit for voice messages. Or maybe the reception got crappy again. He heard that a snowstorm will be hitting later D.C. later tonight.

Either way though, the Duckman could not help him or his ailing partner since the act of helping requires the _helper_ to know that his _helpee_ needs some help. And since the helper does not know that such helpee exists, he wouldn't be able to help.

Oh, joy! Now he is talking nonsense. Or thinking nonsense. Whichever. Whatever.

Acting on pure instinct, and perhaps with a truckload of adrenaline, he speed dialled 3.

With a drying throat, he squawked, "Probie! Get back here now!"


	9. The Cut off and the Cut back

"Abby, we already have five large ready-to-drink Caf-pows in the cart. There's no more space for another four!" McGee whined, trying to reason out with the Goth. Too much caffeine might not affect Abby right then, but with the rate she's going, she'd certainly be super heavy duty energizer Abby by the end of the month.

"But they're on sale, McGee! Don't you know how many times a year Caf-pows are sold 40% less than its original price?"

Tim looked at Abby carefully. He's sensing lengthy discussion coming up. "No, but I am pretty sure I am about to..."

"None!" Abby picked another large cup from the giant Caf-pow fridge. As if her hands were not quite full enough.

The agent muttered a quiet 'Of course', before waiting to hear another round of Abby's stand on being a pragmatic shopper. She's cute when she's angry, and even though she was angry at him then, the cons of it still wouldn't cancel the pros.

Abby placed her selection on top of her caffeine-filled pile, precariously balancing each one of them so they would not fall off the cart. "Don't even start asking me how many times they give two free shirts for every three Caf-pows purchased!"

"I won't ask." McGee said straightaway. He didn't want her to go bonkers over this, but his resolve won't be changed. She has to deal with it. "I won't let you drink more caffeine than you should, Abbs. I'm sorry, but not on my watch."

"Stop being such a mother hen, Agent McGee." The Goth admonished him with a pout. "Your babysitting duties end with Tony and Ziva."

"I'm not..." Tim began, but halted midway when the incredulity of it all sank in. "Mother... mother hen?"

"The last thing I need now is an ex-boyfriend who messes around with cheerleaders when I'm not looking but still thinks he has a right over me. Over my personal choices!"

McGee said nothing. A glum stare is all that he gave her.

"Too much?" To say that Abby regretted her words the moment they came out of her mouth is an understatement. To make up for it, he hugged Tim. "Oh, I didn't mean it, Tim. I overreacted and lashed out at you. It's just that with all that's happening today, Tony being hit by a bat, then Ziva… I'm sorry McGee."

"I know, Abbs. Me too." God knows how much he's been disappointed with himself after that incident. It ruined everything. He does not deserve to be hugged. He wiggled free from her grasp. "Me too."

They've been staring at each other for quite some time before Abby finally broke the stalemate. "You know I'm cool with all of it, right? I'm dating now other guys, you're doing the same… I mean, not that you are dating other guys. I'm the one dating other guys, you are dating other girls. But I'm okay if you want to date other guys as well if that's what you really want, since we live in a free country and…" She stopped blabbering when she saw the sad look on Tim's face. "I've forgiven you, you know."

McGee nodded. "Yeah, I know." He then grabbed a couple of Abby's favourite beverage from the cart and slowly returned them to their designated shelves.

The space between them was cut into half by the Goth in one stride. Crossing her arms, she said, "I don't think you do."

He wanted to correct her, but he would be lying.

"Timmy..." Abby mumbled softly.

In order to steer them away from that territory, McGee took one step back and declared "Two Caf-pows this day for you, that's it." The finality in his voice was stern enough to make Tony (and even Gibbs) proud.

Too bad they aren't here to witness it.

Maybe they'll even save him from having this conversation altogether. He felt too uncomfortable he thought he could even make do with some Dinozzo-inspired taunting. Hell, he's too desperate to get out he'll even take a headslap if he has to.

"This is not the last time we'll be talking about this, Tim." Abby informed him with a pout. She's not in the mood to finish a serious conversation in a grocery store anyway. Not even with a freezer full of Caf-pows guarding her back.

McGee nodded, albeit with hesitation. "Okay."

"Can I have three? For the free shirts? I wouldn't be able to sleep without getting some, Timmy! Please please please please pleeaasse?" Abby bargained with a small grumble of what appears to be some form of plea—which Tim sadly did not catch.

Another thing he did not quite understand is why on earth she isn't threatening to inflict him bodily harm like Ziva does to Tony. Abby did it a couple of times to him, warning him about being cooked inside out or something without leaving any forensic evidence.

Fortunately, that particular plan seemed to be on queue. As of the moment.

Maybe the grocery store is too public to make threats like that. And the place is swarming with surveillance cameras, too. So, the part about leaving no evidence would be futile then, if that's the case.

Going back to what Abby said... what did she just say again? He was sure he caught a few words of it.

"Three what?" He asked. As comprehension dawns on—or rather, stuns—him, his eyes widened. Really widened. A little more and they'll surely be coming out of their sockets. _Shirt? Sleep? Getting some?_ What the hell is she talking about? She does not seriously mean...

Oh, boy.

"Abby, isn't that a little bit..." '_A little bit what, Timothy? Premature? Wrong? Awesome?_' He could almost hear himself ask. He does not really know how to respond. He really doesn't. Abby's way of thinking has is so complex he always gets a whiplash at every turn. He stuttered, "I mean, it is great being with you, I like it, I really do... but I don't think it is appropriate for us to—"

Abby looked at him as if he grew a second head.

"That... is not... what you are... talking... about." His realization of that fact got him stammering. _Why on earth am I channelling Tony?_

"I don't think so." She grinned, eyeing him playfully. "On the other hand, I think I'm sort of interested in what _you_ are talking about..."

His throat tightens as she watched him expectantly.

"Milk!" He croaked as if he suddenly remembered where the Ark of the Covenant was hidden. "Yes, let's get some milk!"

Maybe Abby did not actually catch the inappropriate flow of his jumbled thoughts. Maybe she did not notice how his brain went to all the way down_ 'there'_.

Abby placed her fingers against her forehead in a putting on a fake salute. Feigning a military voice, "Sir, yes, sir! We'll be _gettin' some..._ milk, sir!"

Of course she did. Her emphasis of those words was too obvious to miss.

Determined to stop it at that, McGee continued pushing their cart along the aisle—even leaving the goth a few paces behind. By then he was certain that Abby knew what he wrongly thought she was talking about. Or something along those lines. If there was a proper time to die of embarrassment, that would be it. His cheeks were burning like molten semiconductors. So are his ears.

Maybe it was a good thing Tony wasn't here after all. He'll be having a field day telling everyone at the office how 'Timmy got some' at the grocery store.

As he was picking up a carton of Hershey's chocolate milk, his phone rang.

Not even half a beat passed before a distressed voice greeted him in such haste he would think it is more than a matter of life and death.

"Probie! Get back here now!"


	10. The Urgency in the Emergency

**A/N: Have you seen the latest NCIS episode? Of course you did. I'm quite tardy to the party, I know, but's nice to hear her name again, don't you think? I just hope that that would not be the last time they would be saying her name. The show's one year of Ziva taboo sucked.**

* * *

><p>"Tony, calm down." McGee replied. He was already in half a run towards the exit. Abby was closely running behind him, all the groceries forgotten. They way he ran out made it seem like he stole something. Good thing he has a badge to flash. With a surprisingly composed voice, the probie asked, "What's happening?"<p>

A sharp intake of breath escaped from Abby's lips as she noticed that Timmy was discretely getting his Sig Sauer from its holster by his waist.

"Ziva... Ziva is..." Tony stammered anxiously on the other end of the line. "I don't know!"

At the car, Tony was frantically rousing Ziva who's now coming in and out of consciousness. One look at her pale face and he could tell that she is currently suffering from immeasurable pain. And, by God, he has never been this worried for anyone before.

Okay, maybe he has. But the person in question is essentially the same, so that doesn't count.

When McGee finally reached the car, Tony caught a glimpse of his probie's now drawn out gun. He control snapped. "Oh, come on, probie! Are you gonna shoot her for good measure!? She's in pain already! There's no need to put a couple of bullet holes on top of it!" He is being excessively snarky, and he is completely aware of that. But something tells him that McGee will understand.

Abby ran closer as soon as she was sure that the area was clear. If there's anything she has learned while being with Team Gibbs, it is that her platinum membership to the team will not magically turn her into an armed agent. She wouldn't run straight into a potential fire fight, no matter how worried she may be.

She was still a good 6 feet away when she heard Tony yell, "Get us to the hospital now!"

Air got caught up in her throat as she heard those words. She ran faster. The pigtails on her head were bouncing madly as she tried to steer herself back to the car in her skyscraper platforms. The three inches of snow surely wasn't any help.

"Tony, relax. 'mm fine now." Ziva murmured absently. Beads of perspiration were starting to form on her forehead. Her eyelids were drooping. Her lips were trembling.

"Shut up, will ya?" Tony admonished with a scowl. The pounding inside his head is growing exponentially fast—not that he cared. "Fine? Are you freakin' kidding me?"

McGee revved the engine hastily, and they are already driving away from the parking space before Abby could even shut her door at her side. "Hang on tight everyone." He cautioned his passengers.

The goth turned herself towards the backseat—not an easy feat with seatbelts on, by the way—and asked, "What's happening to her, Tony?" She reached out a hand to Ziva's arm and gave her an assuring squeeze.

Tony attempted a shrug, but it came out like a shiver. Abby's eyes mirrored the obvious tension in Tony's movements. If Tony was worried, then it really is something to be worried about.

"Have you called Ducky?" McGee questioned as he made a sharp turn. The hospital is at the other side of town, so he badly needed to step up his driving.

"Tried." Tony's voice was dry. To make matters worse, his headache has completely caught up with him now. "Can't reach him."

Abby pulled out her phone from her pouch. "I'm gonna call him again. Maybe he'll answer this time."

"I'll call Gibbs." Tony announced to no one in particular while he was dialling the number he knew all too well.

Ziva feebly grabbed his arm, pulling the phone away from his ear. "No." She mumbled almost unintelligibly. Tony hesitantly pressed cancel.

"The boss needs to know." Tony argued, eyeing her hand which is barely hanging on to his shirt sleeve.

"He does not know." Ziva exasperatedly responded between clenched teeth.

"That's why I'm gonna call him." Tony felt like he was disagreeing with a three year old. They're arguing in circles.

"No. He does not know... he must not..." Lassitude was really not her best pal right then.

"What?"

"It was not his fault."

"Who? Gibbs?"

"Please..."

Those were her last words before she finally succumbed into unconsciousness.


	11. The Time and the Crime

"Probieee!" Tony yelled as loud as his throbbing skull would allow. "Drive faster!"

"I am doing what I can here." McGee was relatively calmer than Tony as he replied. Actually, at this point, everyone else is calmer than Tony. He's even more panicky than Abby. "We're almost there."

"Hang on, Ziva." Abby whispered nervously to her friend before she turned her head to Tony. "What exactly happened, Tony? What was she talking about?"

"I do not know what's going on, Abbs." He gestured anxiously to his partner's unconscious form. "I don't feel good about this.

"She's going to be fine." The goth assured him.

Tony was about to mutter a response when he heard his probie's relieved sigh. "We're here."

Nurses and doctors met them in front of the emergency room. A gurney magically appeared behind them while they were taking Ziva from his lap. He would lift her, but given his arm situation, he stayed put and let the orderlies get her. She was lifted, strapped, and wheeled off towards the hospital in record time.

As his partner was being carted off, everything started to become awfully slow for Tony. He could hear voices, but it's like they're being said from the other end of a tunnel. Not so far away, he could spot Abby talking to a doctor in hushed tones. McGee was standing beside her.

He thought reaching the hospital would offer some sort of relief to that gnawing feeling that was starting to eat his gut from inside out. Dread was creeping into him like a slimy pestilence—devouring its way through as it slithered at every corner of his concussion-muddled mind. He raises his hand, intending to run it through his head. However, when his fingers levelled with his line of vision, what he saw in them made his stomach churn.

Blood.

It barely took him a split second before he had steered himself towards the group. Heart racing, he hurriedly made his alarming discovery known. "I have blood in my hands. I am not sure how I got them, but I think it is hers." He spat out his words so rapidly he wasn't entirely sure if anyone caught any of it.

He wasn't sure how long was he wandering along the halls of the hospital before a rushing male doctor bumped none too gently onto him. No one fell or anything, so that was good. At least, that's what he thought. It was kinda hard to notice things when half of your brain is all smashed up. In fact, he didn't even hear what doctor speedy said to him after their accidental collision. Whether it was a heartfelt apology or an ample helping of some good ol' swear words, he could not tell. Tony scowled nonetheless.

Ziva's blood was literally in his hands. It's all dried up, but it' still there, mocking him, making his hand to uncontrollably shake. Aside from that, no other remotely sane thought was registering in his sore head.

"Tony, are you okay? Where the hell did you go?" Tim pulled him out of his reverie with a slight shake. The probie's methods were crude, considering his condition, but it was effective. "And what are you doing?"

"Oh, that... Good question, McGeek!" Tony was silent for a while, contemplating for the answer which had evaded him as well. As a final resort, he stuck with the obvious. He was still scowling. "What do you think? Isn't it obvious that I'm staring at my partner's blood on my hand?"

"Sit somewhere and stay still." The probie commanded, observing him carefully. Perhaps it was adrenaline was wearing off. That plus the mild concussion. "You could use it."

Surprisingly, Tony did not show any hints of defiance nor mocking at McGee's authoritative tone. He merely nodded and did as ordered.

Tony chose an empty corner and slid against the wall. The flurry of people around him was making him dizzy, so he opted to move him gaze up the ceiling. At least that part of the hospital still had the decency of not making his world wobble further.

As if on cue, the events of the previous hour played in his head. There was talk. Talk. Then talk again There was laughter, even. Then all of a sudden she's in pain. She tells you she's fine, and then all of a sudden she faints. She faints! Ninjas do not faint.

She really has to work on her lying skills. They're getting rusty. Eighty five year old iron man rusty.

Could it be possible that she bled and passed out because of something he did? She wouldn't just drop down for no reason would she?

He does not know how long was he sitting there before Tim chose to slide down beside him. The probie looked thoroughly worn out. No one spoke at first, and Tony initially thought that it was better that way. However, as minutes ticked by, a sudden need to talk began to gnaw at him. "Sorry... about earlier." He can't remember what exactly he was sorry about, but for some reason, he remembered that it had to be said.

"You are worried about her." Tim understood him, and he wasn't really looking for an apology in the first place.

"Huh." Tony went for the sound of utmost incredulity, but he ended up sounding completely forlorn.

Tim was still staring at him like he was waiting for him to say something.

Even the simplest conversation confuses him, so he said the only thing that came to his mind. "Ninjas don't faint."

"Okay." Tim agreed, still with that expectant stare. Not a creepy kind of expectant stare, of course. That would be, uh, well... creepy.

Tony snapped. "If you're waiting for me to say something else, or give you answers, you have to ask a question."

"Fair enough." Tim nodded, then asked, "You sure you're okay?"

His next words were laced with sarcasm. "Concussion. Partner in the ER... Yeah, I'm perfect."

Tim's gaze did not falter for a moment.

"My brain's doing long jumps and pirouettes inside my skull... sometimes I'm thinking clear, sometimes vague..." He tried to smile, though he is quite sure what he came up with is a grimace, "but I'll live."

Silence again.

"Where's Abby?" Tony asked as he glanced at the huge clock directly above the window to his right. It's 7:28 pm, and it is snowing outside. Not enough flurry to fret over though.

McGee sighed inwardly. "She insisted on buying us snacks."

"She shouldn't have." Tony took a fleeting look at the clock again. Still 7:28._ What is taking them so long?_

A voice that they have been long accustomed to hearing suddenly pulled the two agents out of their conversation. The sound of it made both of them feel frightened and relieved at the same time. It was a very welcoming feeling. "Talk to me." They heard him say.

An audible sigh came from Tony's throat as he glanced up, and his silver haired boss came into view. Ducky was still treading towards them, though he was not that far behind. The two agents stood up slowly out of their current slump.

"They said something about a wound at her hip, but the doctors won't elaborate yet. They're still checking on her boss." The ever dutiful McProbie replied. It is good that he did—for Tony himself wouldn't know what to tell. He couldn't actually say that he suddenly made Ziva faint just by talking to him. For one thing, Ziva and the word 'faint' do not really belong in one sentence. It sounded wrong—like a violation to the laws of nature. Like a sin to the gods. It is even worse that saying Steve McQueen isn't the King of Cool. Or that Jack Nicholson's nose wasn't broken in Chinatown.

Well, as it appears, there is always a first for everything. Regretfully so, in some cases.

"They've been there for half an hour." McGee went on, "Any news on the case?"

"Caught the perp. Jacobson confessed to using illegal drugs, and spiking David's drink, but not to the murder." Gibbs replied flatly, going straight to the point. "She took a deal, gave us the list of the drugs in her concoction, gave up the names of her dealer, and the name of killer. Even I was surprised."

McGee fought the urge to raise one of his eyebrows at his boss. He's making it all sound so simple. He wondered if it indeed was. Topping this was the fact that Gibbs has just said more words today than all of the days of the previous week combined. And that can be said without the slightest hint of exaggeration. More so, Gibbs? Surprised? Ha.

And he solved the entire case.

"Did she say why she drugged Ziva?"

"Said she likes sharing. It's Christmas." Gibbs replied flatly.

That response seemed fitting, given the person who said it. The loony woman sure knew how to give loony answers. Her weird attire suddenly suited her so well. But is it just him or did it look like something's not sitting well with his boss?

"The guy who went bonkers on me?" Tony inquired, though he already had an inkling of what his boss' answer would be. He felt a familiar feeling in his gut the moment he saw that burly dude. And it was not just because he was holding a ginormous bat. Hell, even his toenails screamed 'killer'.

"Yep. He's the dealer." Gibbs said. "Our victim saw him sell Mrs. Jacobson drugs, so he confronted him. It got him killed. The woman saw it all."

Tony knew what the answer to his next question will be, though he can't help wanting to hear it. After all, that douche bag did bash his head. With a bat. "And he is?"

"Dead."

"Oh." He muttered half-heartedly.

"Abby is checking the list of drugs I've taken from Jacobson as we speak, verifying if there's anything she'd missed." Tony heard his boss say. "I'll be downstairs to get coffee."

"Okay boss." Tony grimaced as a sharp wave of pain announced itself in his skull. His knees wobbled slightly. "Got it."

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs glared at him. "Sit on a damn chair."

* * *

><p><strong>For everyone who reviewed my work, and who were able to reach this far: Thank you for all your kind words! This story is my first attempt at writing humor, and i hope it's wasn't dull or OOC. I'm not exactly used to writing fiction (especially humor) since my line of work demanded writing stuff in a completely different way but whatever... <strong>

_Btw, have you seen a movie / tv episode where a character's heart monitor flatlines and then all of a sudden the doctor electrocutes them with those iron-like paddles? That move is not right. I just saw one earlier, and I can't help but point out that it is incorrect to cardiovert someone who's in asystole (flatline)! _

_That move is used only if there's irregular heart rhythm (ie, the heart's beating in an abnormally rapid and incorrect way like in supraventricular tachycardia), and you want to terminate the said incorrect rhythm quick so the heart could restart and beat the right way again. If there's no electrical activity (flatline), there is nothing to terminate because the heart is not beating at all; hence, what's supposed to be done there are chest compressions (where you manually make the heart beat again with your hands). _

_But then again, cardioversion (and defibrillation for that matter) looked more dramatic on tv so..._


	12. The Health and the Stealth

**This is a bit longer than my earlier chapters. Enjoy :P**

* * *

><p>After a couple of minutes, the door opened.<p>

"Family of Ms. Ziva David?" A rather fetching Greek doctor called out. His amicable aura and amazing looks made him look very much out of place. No matter how nice he may appear in his pale blue scrubs, he did not seem to suit the hospital environment all that well. He belongs to Olympus, or to wherever the gods of the pretty lurk these days.

Surprisingly though, he was able to pronounce Ziva's name right, a rare feat for most strangers. But then again, maybe that was because he's a Greek god. More so, the doctor himself has some accent of his own. He probably wouldn't appreciate strangers mispronouncing his name. It would not be much of a leap if his name turned out to be something like Dr. Asclepius, or maybe Dr. Aegaeon.

Amongst the team, McGee was the first one to spring out of his seat. Everyone else shortly followed suit.

Everyone except Tony.

It was Abby who noticed that her senior field agent friend stayed back. When she turned to see him, she noted that was still very much lost in his own thoughts. She went back to him. "Tony?" She nudged him slightly. "Aren't you coming?"

Tony stared blankly at the goth until he was suddenly hoisted from his slouch by his silver-haired boss. Apparently, he, too, had noticed his senior agent's absence and went back to get him. "Up." He orders him gruffly.

Tony barely even noticed how he went from sitting, to standing, to standing in front of Dr. Pretty. It was only when the doctor flipped a page from his clipboard that made Tony to finally snap out of his headspace.

Damn concussion. His alternating moments of clarity and ambiguity is driving him nuts—if he still isn't one yet, that is.

"How is she?" It was Gibbs who asked first.

The doctor took his sweet time before he spoke, doubling everyone's trepidation. "Who among you is the next of kin?" He glanced at his audience briefly before checking his clipboard again, "A mister..." He scanned through the page with his finger until he found the name he was looking for. "Jethro Gibbs is listed here as her emergency contact."

"I am Gibbs." The bossman replied impatiently. He asked again, his annoyance for having to repeat himself was too obvious to ignore. "How is she?"

"She has not yet regained consciousness, but she perhaps will, shortly. Aside from the multitude of various drugs in her system that would probably make her rather sedated and dizzy for a few hours, there is nothing else to be worried about." Though the doctor's voice was heavily accented, it was quite reassuring. Quite.

Tony looked at the doctor as if he's gone bonkers. Did the doc fell from sky and hit his head against those Greek pillars on his way down? "She just fainted, bled out somewhere, and there's nothing to be worried about?"

"Ah, yes. I understand that that event may have caused concern, and I will be explaining that in a while." The doctor looked at Tony and asked, "Mister?"

"Anthony DiNozzo. I am her partner." _Partner._ Funny how all of his reasons to live, all of his worries and fears, and all that makes him go on breathing, can be now be packaged in a neat, simple, and totally harmless word.

"Of course." The doctor politely acknowledged. His gaze never left Tony as he continued, "However, before I go on, may I know who among you knew the details the injury she had sustained roughly less than a week ago? Any medications she took for that, and if possible, the name of the attending physician?"

"Injury?" Abby questioned, eyeing the team suspiciously. She can't believe no one has bothered mention anything to her. But to her surprise, as her narrowed eyes moved from face to face, seemed to know nothing about it as well. Everyone seemed as gobsmacked as she was. Even Gibbs. She narrowed her eyes at the doctor instead, "What kind of injury?"

"It appears that she was involved in a stabbing inci—"

It was McGee's turn to interrupt. Only one word has registered completely to his brain, and it came out of his mouth before he could stop it. His voice was a few octaves above normal when he squawked. "Stabbing?"

"Yes. We found a stab wound about an inch above her right hip. It appeared that the weapon was thrust upwards, creating fairly deep injury which narrowly misses her abdominal cavity. A little deeper and it would have gotten through; her large intestine could have been hit."

"Who knew about this?" Gibbs asked at no one in particular, his eyes zeroing in to Ducky, who simply shrugged. The Scotsman obviously wasn't informed about it either. He took a fleeting glance at the others. A surprised 'o' was deftly fixed on Abby's lips while Tony was too stunned to even open his mouth.

No one from his team seemed to know about it. _Geez, Ziver._

Tony attempted to sneak a glance at the room behind the doctor. All he could see was the foot of the bed.

The doctor continued talking, probably explaining and answering every question from the team. Most of which were perhaps from Ducky, but Tony was too preoccupied to care. His racing thoughts drowned all the voices out. _His partner was stabbed? As in stabbed with a knife? Ziva does not get stabbed. Ziva is supposed to do all the stabbing. Knife or no knife. She could impale and kill using a q-tip if she wanted to._

"When can I see her?" Tony interrupted the doctor impatiently. He would waste one more second dealing with some jibber-jabber designed to fool him into believing that everything is going normally. Everything is not going normally. No one can be stabbed in the gut and have a condition going normally.

"You can see her now, in fact. However, I would not recommend going into her room all at once. We would not want to crowd in there, would we?" The doctor replied, his line sounded a little rehearsed. And it was. He had been saying those words for years.

"Of course." Ducky affirmed, then lowered his voice. "I do not wish to impose doctor, but could I speak with you privately for a moment?"

Ducky need not to mention anything for the team to know what it is that he wanted to discuss. It was not a secret to everyone that Ziva had suffered quite an ordeal with anti-depressant drugs a while back. No one might have talked about it in the open, but that's just how the team is. They just know.

After a few minutes, Ducky walked back to the group. "She will be fine now. There's nothing to worry about." He gently said. It's quite nice to have a doctor in the team in situations like this. At least if Ducky says it's going to be fine, it's really gonna be fine. "Would you mind me checking on our dear agent first? Her doctor wanted to ask me something about her injury, and insisted that I have to see it for myself to understand."

Tony's back stiffened for a heartbeat. But it quickly sagged as he heard the boss' voice boom somewhere behind him. "You go ahead Duck, I will come in next."

Something that closely resembled a protest formed at the back of his throat, but he decided to swallow it back as quickly as it came. However, he wasn't able to stop a low squeak from escaping his lips.

After a few agonizingly long minutes, Ducky and the Greek doc finally exited Ziva's room.

The medical examiner went straight to Gibbs and mumbled in a voice so soft Tony had to strain his ears in order to understand the words. "She's still asleep; I wouldn't recommend waking her yet." It was low enough though so as not to disturb McGee who was dozing off soundlessly beside him, but not that low for him to miss any word. Especially what Ducky said next...

"The wound was healing nicely, but slowly. I would presume Agent David stitched it up all by herself, which is, by the way, a tremendously difficult task given the location of the wound. Fortunately, it was not infected. A couple of stitches were popped, but it has already been tended to."

Tony heard every freaking word. But only one thought stuck to him—she stitched her own goddamn stab wound!

_Geez. That woman is insane._

"That's Ziva." Gibbs replied. Both Tony and Ducky could not agree more. There's no other way to explain that kind of mad behaviour.

Ducky's succeeding question got Tony to listen harder—if that was even possible, "Any ideas as to the nature of her injury, Jethro?"

"Too early to tell." Gibbs' answer was as cryptic as always.

"Well, then, I think it's time for me to leave. Nights like this are not as friendly as before to men of my age, I tell you. I take it you'd call me once she wakes up? I am just a phone call away, and I can assure you I will be more reachable this time." He added the last statement more for Tony's benefit.

Gibbs took a sip of coffee and nodded at the Scotsman. "Will do, Duck."

It took only a few beats after Ducky's departure before Gibbs turned to his senior field agent. "You go ahead DiNozzo."

"Boss?" Tony asked tentatively. Gibbs is not seriously asking him to go home, is he?

"Are you waiting for Ziva to fetch you?" Tony was almost certain he heard a twinge of something in Gibbs' voice. Whether it is disbelief or amusement, he could not tell, but it was something. A very suspicious kind of something at that. "Get your ass off that chair before I change my mind."

Tony sprang out of his seat as if it was on fire, startling one sleepy probie in the process. He had completely disappeared through the door before Tim could even form any lucid protest.

* * *

><p>The atmosphere surely changed once he entered her room. There was not a single sign that would tell that a crazy ninja is the one lying among those whity-white hospital sheets. The lights were dimmed, almost turned off, in fact. Aside from the constant the dripping of her IV, her steady breathing was the only thing he could hear. He could not feel more relieved. He muttered a silent thanks to all the heavens, seeing that there were no weird machines attached to her in any way. That would certainly make his headache worse.<p>

The room was not that big. Eight giant steps and he'd be kissing its farthest wall. One wide, heavily curtained window is on the said wall; underneath it was a futon which would only be okay to sleep on if one is tired enough. To his right was a small television which was hanging snugly against the wall. To his left lies her bed; it was inclined slightly to prop her pillow to a comfortable height. Her sheets were not of the typical sickbay type; they looked softer and nicer. Beside the bed was an expensive looking single-seater sofa which was clearly not part of the hospital room package.

Someone's getting special treatment.

He walked closer. He edged slowly towards her bed, making as little noise as possible. If Ducky does not recommend waking her up, then he'll not be waking her up. He will just check her stab wound, sit down a little and wait until she wakes up.

"So, what do we have in here?" Tony muttered to himself as he was slowly lifting the sheets off his partner's hip. He still couldn't believe Ziva didn't even bother telling him that she was stabbed. How hard is it to say something like, 'Hi Tony, I was stabbed in the hip, can you come over and take me to the hospital?'

But no, Crazy Ninja Ziva stitched up her hip all by herself.

_Unbelievable._

He slowly eased the covers off her injured hip. However, before he could even lay a finger on her hospital gown—a voice too scary to be a hallucination—broke the silence. He jumped, then froze.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Ziva hissed at him disbelievingly.

"Nothing." Tony replied defensively. "Just checking if you are—umm"

Ziva raised an eyebrow at him. She removed her gaze from him. Obviously she found something else more interesting to look at. Judging by that look, she was rather intrigued by it.

He then followed her gaze, his eyes moved slowly, thinking about every possible thing which could possibly look more interesting than him in her room, before finally turning attention on his hand which was then lazily resting at her...

Oops.

"Checking if I am what, exactly? Wearing underwear?"

"Yes... Um, no?" Tony's cheeks went hot. He's not sure of what the right answer should be, but judging the look on her face, there clearly wasn't any.

There's one thing he's sure though, she wasn't wearing anything under that gown.

Wait, was he blushing_?_ As in all-bashful-red-on-the-cheek kind of blushed? It had not even occurred to him how wrongly placed his hands were until he saw them. Probably it had landed there after she had startled him. It was purely accidental. However, as always, it only took a split second before Tony recovered from a compromising situation—or position. He smirked, still umoving, "What if I am?"

"Remove your hand, or you would not see it again." She warned.

Tony wanted to utter an innuendo, but he wisely decided against it. Call it self preservation. He slowly—and carefully—pulled his hand away, but not without making another quip. "If you've gone commando, I ought to know."

"Commando?" She mulled over the word before she spoke again, eyes confused, "I was never in the Special Forces, though yes, I have operated beyond enemy lines many times before. Why do you ask such random questions?"

"Really?" He looked at her in utter disbelief. "Ziva, really?"

"You said commando." She seemed affronted. "Commando means..."

"Not that commando."

She stared at his face and tried to read it. She read it indeed. It looked rather disconcerting, even for Tony. She took a deep breath, "I see." Actually, she did not see anything. However, knowing Tony—and that sly grin plastered on his face—she did not have to.

"You really do not know what it means, do you?"

She considered lying, but decided against it the last minute. "Actually, no." She shrugged. "But you surely paint a good picture."

Tony could only let out a mischievous grin. A dangerous glint shone from the corner of his eyes as he spoke. "I do, do I?" God, he loved that palindrome.

She decided to press the topic further to distract him. "Oh, yes." She mumbled that in a voice so sultry that even she herself bought for a second. The attempt was futile though, to say the least. Her innuendo was ignored entirely. He went from goofy to serious in a flash.

"Who stabbed you, Ziva?"

"How is your head?" She asked back automatically as if she did not hear anything. He is not the only one who could make deflections.

_Nu-uh-uh. You did not just go there._ "Ziva." His voice, lined with warning, was stern. She's doing it again—some sort of subtle misdirection which is not so subtle anymore. Not to him, at least. He promised himself not to get angry, but with the way this conversation goes, it can't be helped. He may make jokes about serious stuff from time to time, but not everything can be solved by humor. Ziva needed to know that. She needed to know what he really felt about her random acts of pseudo-invincibility as of late.

Detecting the sourness in his voice, she replied flatly. "It is none of your concern, Tony."

"I'm your partner, am I not entitled even to a whiff of that particular information?"

"This was nothing. Barely scratched the surface."

"It was not his fault." Tony leaned in closer, repeating what she said to him before she passed out. "What does that mean?"

"I do not understand what you are talking about."

"He—whoever _he _was—was the one who stabbed you." Tony did not need her to confirm it. He was sure he was right.

Her voice was still firm, albeit, in a drowsy way. "Still, I do not understand what you are talking about."

"Don't lie to me, goddamn it!" She flinched at the tone of his voice.

"It was an accident." Ziva insisted. "Nothing of importance."

"Try selling a lame kitchen mishap excuse to me and I'll personally hunt down whoever dared to put a blade in you and end him." Tony was beyond furious. Why on earth was Ziva covering up a crime by a sick bastard like that? She was lying through her teeth for what exactly? "No. Forget that. I will personally hunt him down no matter what you do." He was about to walk out when he heard her call out.

"Tony!" She warned. "Do not be childish. There was no harm done."

He marched back towards her bed, his features cross. "No harm done? No fucking harm done?" His head not that far from exploding, and it was not due to some mere head trauma anymore. "Someone out there put a knife in your gut. I do not know what the word "harm" means in that silly world of yours, but in my world, being stabbed is harm enough. Hell, _harm_ does not even cut it."

"You are overreacting over a small wound." She huffed wearily as she settled her head further down her pillow. "It was a mere gash on the side, what is the big deal?"

"Let me tell you what the fucking big deal is. You got knifed and did not tell anyone! You stitched yourself up and did not tell anyone!" The last time sounded this angry was when he was arguing with EJ. Perhaps he was even angrier now than he was then. However, when he glanced at her glistening eyes, he can't help but soften. He sighed audibly, fist clenched onto the mattress. "I hate it when you do this."

There was silence for a beat or two before she finally said anything in reply. "I am sorry."

"Who stabbed you Ziva?" He sounded calmer, but still with a hint of rage. Intent eyes were gazing at her, boring holes into her face.

"Can we not talk about this now?" Ziva pleaded, looking at him as much as her drooping eyelids would permit. "I promise I will tell you everything you want to know."

"Do that."

"Once this is over." She added groggily before he could form a response.

He was about to ask what "this" was she talking about when he realized that "this" meant this whole little sedatives and concussion fiasco they got themselves into. It was not such a bad idea either. Indeed, it was a lot nicer to have a talk if both parties could follow the flow of conversation without zoning out, or falling asleep—which she seemed to be nearly doing. He never thought he'd see the day Ziva would fight so hard to stay awake… while talking. It was almost funny. It probably was, only if he wasn't so furious.

"You're not in any sort of danger now, are you?" He clarified.

She shook her head slightly. "No, Tony, I am not."

Tony sat on the couch for minutes before a response finally made its way out of his mouth. "Okay." Tony nodded. "Let's spit on it, shall we?"

Ziva looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Her senses were stirred for a bit. "What?"

"Never mind." He shrugged and settled himself on the sofa. "Just sleep."

"No." She declared with utmost confidence. "I would not stay another hour at this hospital."

"Alright then, Dr. David—oh, wait a minute..." He went for a dramatic pause before he went on, "Oh, yeah. You are not a doctor. That's precisely why you are called a patient, you know? You cannot just decide you wanted to leave."

"Watch me."

_Fine._ Challenge accepted. "Let's see who wins."

Another awkward silence enveloped the room. It was slightly masked by Tony's drumlike tapping of the arm rest, but the uncomfortable stillness was palpable. He broke the stalemate. "By the way, for the record, the mere gash you are talking about... it was more like a deep upward slice."

She could sense the sarcasm, and it made her suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to hit something. It was a reassuring sensation, especially when she had been feeling like her own body is succumbing to sleep all day. "What difference does that make?"

He feigned being in a deep thought before answering, "One and a half inches. Give or take."

Seeing the look on his face made her flinch. Her eyes evaded his questioning gaze. "I have had worse."

"It does not make it any less bad."

Ziva thought Tony was completely missing her point. The whole debacle was not a big deal. She was stabbed a little, passed out for a while... so what? It is not as if she went close to dying. Wounds come with the territory. And she certainly is in that territory.

"You scared the hell out of me." He told her, pulling her out of her headspace. It would be useless to ask why she was covering up who did it. It would even be more useless to ask why she didn't tell anyone. He will not be satisfied with whatever answer she comes up with anyway. "It would be kind of nice if you could at least act like you care for yourself from time to time."

"What makes you think I do not care for myself?" She asked indignantly.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" Tony was not sure whether he should laugh or scowl at her, so he chose neither. He merely shrugged indifferently. "In the meantime, you keep your ass in that bed until the doctor releases you."

"You expect me to stay here for a small wound? What on earth do you expect me to do here?" She dared ask.

"I dunno. Be creative. Use your imagination. Harness those ninja creative juices." Tony said, winking furtively.

"I think I will pass." She replied, her face clearly exaggerating her distaste at the thought. But before Tony could even take advantage of the opening to utter another teasing quip, Ziva chose to change the topic altogether. This time, it was not meant as a deflection. She was genuinely concerned about his partner's state of health. Despite her state, she could tell that he was still in much pain. "How are you, Tony?"

"Sleep. We'll talk more later. I'm fine." He went for the door, smiling at her before closing it behind him.

And she was again left in silence.


	13. The Truth in the Lie

**Two of my favorite actresses are celebrating their birthday today. Can you guess who they are?**

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><p>"I want to get out of this hospital!" Were the words Tony first heard the moment he re-entered her room one and a half hour later.<p>

"And I want a nice little house somewhere in the South of France, although like you, I can't see myself getting what I want in the near future." Tony wittily replied. "Good evening to you too, Dah-veed. I see you are awake." He paused for dramatic effect. "Wait a minute, did you just wake up or you have been awake the entire time? You do know how to sleep, right?"

Ziva smiled a scary smile at him—and through gritted teeth, she warned, "One more smart-ass comment and I will personally shove my IV into your jugular."

"Feisty." Tony collapsed onto the single-seater sofa adjacent to her bed and groaned. Its cloud-like softness hugged his aching back so snugly he felt like he was in heaven. It has been a long hour. Propping both of his legs on her bed, he let out another sigh. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves here, shall we?"

Ziva roughly kicked his legs off the bed, it was way weaker than she'd usually like, but it was a good kick nonetheless. Thanks to a short nap, she had gained a little more clarity. "May I remind you that only a few hours ago—and I am absolutely certain about that time lapse—you were the one who's frantically talking me into convincing McGee and Abby that you have taken your pain medication even though you did not. If I need to be here, which I clearly do not, then you certainly need to be here more."

He stared at her intently, and she stared back with twice the intensity of that of a jungle cat. The two tried outreading each other's minds but failed miserably.

Tony broke the silence. "Touché, in a way, I think." He was dying to scratch his forehead. What was it made up of anyway, Poison Ivy? The itchiness made his headache all the more irritating.

"Help me out of here." She almost pleaded. "Tell them I am awake now, I am feeling perfectly well and ready to leave. I did the same for you earlier when your doctor tried to detain you for that brain injury of yours."

"I do not have brain injury." Tony corrected her in indignation. "It was a head injury."

"Fine, head injury." She waved him off. "Now, I am asking you to return the favour. Help me out!"

"Okay. You're perfectly fine." He shifted on his seat. She thought he was about to do what she just said when his tired tone suddenly turned sardonic—with a hint of sarcasm. "Oh, wait, did I just faint a few minutes ago?"

His condescension didn't go unnoticed so she went on with a threat, "I will disclose your plans not to take your meds to Ducky. Gibbs will certainly pump you himself with morphine once he knew what you were planning. And for the record, I did not faint."

"But you did."

"No, I did not."

"I'd rather be drugged all the way to la-la land than watch you faint on me again." He won't let himself be intimidated by her threats. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"That's because of all the burgers you have been eating. I thought we have already settled this."

"You fainted, so you will stay here until they release you. End of discussion."

She jolted to a sitting position in a huff. She instantly felt nauseous. She swallowed. "I did not faint! How many times do you want me to tell you that?" She clenched her fists under the covers until her nails burrowed deeply into her palms. Indeed, being stuck in a drug induced haze isn't a very pleasant experience.

He grinned, pushing her gently back down. "Fine, but you did a very good imitation of it. You still look like you could really use some more sleep."

She narrowed her eyes at him and hissed, "How long do they plan to keep me here?" It wasn't a question, if her now slit-like eyes were any indication. If he didn't know better, he would be staying as far away from her as possible.

Too bad he did know better. In fact, judging that look on her face, she won't be teetering towards her scariest variety of angry anytime soon. She's just exasperated and tired. If she were a volcano, he'd place her on alert level one—far from exploding, yet with obvious signs of unrest.

Ooh, that's nerdy.

"Tony, how long are they planning to keep me here?" She repeated.

"A few days." He said. "Maybe more."

Her facial expression was so priceless, it made his eyes water in amusement. He knew she'll have his ass on a platter later—once she learns the truth, that's a sure thing—yet he couldn't help but goof around.

Actually, he already talked Ducky about convincing her doctor to release her. The said doctor was hard to persuade, as he was determined to make Ziva stay overnight for observation. As much as Tony would like to that too (you can never be so sure, after all, she has a ton of drugs in her system), he also knew that she would not stop insisting to leave until she gets what she wants. Luckily Ducky was charming enough to cajole the doc. With a promise of contacting him if ever anything changes, of course.

"Excuse me?" Her words were spewed out with enough venom to scare a family of rattlesnakes. "How ill do they think I am?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. He was clearly challenging her to lie. "You tell me."

"Someone poured their entire medicine cabinet into my drink; it is hardly a life versus death situation."

"Hmph." His eyebrows climbed up a little higher as his gaze landed her injured hip.

Ziva spoke, "Again, it was just a simple altercation. Nothing to get fuzzy about."

"The term is 'nothing to FUSS about', and I beg to differ." He replied as he folded his arms across his chest. He took a step closer and leaned closer to her ear. "You fainted."

"Stop rubbing it _off_!" She almost screamed in exasperation. "So what if I... wasn't feeling one hundred percent today?" He would NEVER make her admit that she fainted. Over her _grave_!

"In." His grin extended from ear to ear as he watched that confused expression slowly reach her eyes. He went on, "Rubbing it in."

She rolled her eyes and hissed again, "It was a small knife wound. It barely even touched me."

"Good luck telling that to Gibbs." Tony stood up straight and shook his head, "Know that my prayers are with you."

"Gibbs is here?" She gaped. A series of coughs soon followed—the news made her choke at her own spit.

"Yep." Gibbs came into the room with a cup of coffee in hand. "Gibbs is here."

Ziva sank deeper into the mattress and sighed. She felt as if she were a child awaiting reprimand. "Gibbs, I—"

Gibbs wore a disappointed look on his face. The last time she saw him like this was when she handed him her badge after accidentally causing the death of a suspect in her custody. Slowly, he approached her bed and muttered, "You better have a very good explanation, David."

"I was just—" She began, before Gibbs' voice interrupted her again. He placed a finger against her lips to keep her from talking.

"Tomorrow." The bossman kissed her forehead before whispering, "The doctor's here to check on you."

As if on cue, a gentle knock came from the door.

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><p><strong>Sorry if I wasn't able to respond to your reviews. I've read each one of them, believe me. I was just really busy these days. Hope you're all enjoying my weird TIVA story though:)<strong>


	14. The Greek and the Game

**I am reaching halfway through my story. Thank you for reading :)**

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><p>A plump female nurse let herself in, followed by the Greek-looking doctor who talked to the team earlier. Gibbs went out of the room silently. He murmured something that sounded like 'refill' before leaving<p>

"Good evening." Greek god said with a huge smile plastered on his face. He still looked like a Greek god; with huge arms making his supposedly baggy scrub suit look like a muscle shirt."I am Dr. Andreatos."

"_Kalispera." _Ziva smiled back. Suddenly, there was a sultry hint in her voice. "Let me guess... Argostoli?"

Tony glanced back and forth at the two of them in disgust. The way that doctor smiled at his partner was undoubtedly flirtatious. Physicians do not smile like that to their patients without an agenda. To make things worse, he's practically undressing her with his eyes. Physicians do not engage in eye sex with their patients. Eye sex is not remotely appropriate in the hospital—or any type of workplace, for that matter.

And Ziva? She's no different. Deliberately letting herself be caught in that doctor's web of stupid smiles... Eye sexing back... ugh! She's practically vomiting her pheromones all over the place.

Dr. Andreatos nodded and said with approval, "You've been to Greece." It sounded more like a statement than a question. So as his next words, "Haifa, I assume."

"Close. I lived there for some time, but I was actually born in Be'er Sheva." She answered, beaming.

Tony could not wait to wipe that flirty smile off her face.

Another grin crept onto the doctor's face. "Ah."

"I was born and raised from the east coast." Tony butted in, bursting the two's mini pheromone-filled bubble. He can't stand being ignored any longer. "I lived shortly in the Midwest. Philadelphia, too."

The doctor glanced at the Tony as if he just noticed him for the first time. Or maybe he did. "I see."

A dangerous glint crept into Tony's eyes. But instead of blabbering further, he chose to do the next best thing. He grabbed Ziva's hand, intertwined their fingers, and gave it a firm squeeze. "She's my partner." He told Dr. Andreatos possessively. It earned him a very appreciative Vulcan death grip from her end.

"I see that, too." The doctor took a fleeting look at their joined hands and smiled. "Though you've already told that to me. Twice."

Ziva eyed her partner suspiciously. She tried pulling her hand away, but it wouldn't budge. The move was surreptitious enough not to be noticed by the nurse or the doctor who were both discussing something about the IV though.

"What did you tell him?" She mouthed threateningly at her partner.

Tony winked at her slyly. He loudly asked the doctor, "So... how's my _partner_ doin'?" He made sure to overly emphasize that awesome word once more. By then her grip had reached its maximum tightness, Tony had to bite his own tongue just to hold back a yelp. He seriously hoped to god that he has already achieved his maximum number of fractures for the day because his pain tolerance could definitely not take more beating.

"Your forensic scientist—very nice lady, by the way—was of very great help in the Tox screen. In fact, she is the one who realized the possibility that what happened earlier was a mere, and hopefully only a short episode of paradoxical reaction to pain. You see, I was informed that you accidentally took a couple of strong pain medications...sedatives..."

"It was not an accident. Someone spiked my beverage on purpose." Ziva corrected him. Tony quietly sighed as her vise-like hand loosened slightly.

"Yes, of course." The doctor agreed half-heartedly. Taking care of the ill is his job; the unlawful means by which the ill became ill is pretty much beyond his purview. "And you were involved in a stabbing incident a few days ago, correct?"

Ziva nodded wearily._  
><em>

The doctor took it as a prompt to go on and so he continued, "Like what I've said, those strong pain medications, along with the sedatives and other minor sleep drugs... probably—and I emphasize the word_ probably_—have caused an adverse reaction in your body. The pain you felt was the product of the exponential increase in the firing of your peripheral nerve fibers due to the drugs you have recently ingested. More so, Ms. Scuito, Dr. Mallard, and the rest of our lab techs all came with to a conclusion that the amplification of the pain may have been triggered by the slight tenderness brought by your prior injury; namely, the stab wound."

"So you're telling us that her body reacted to the pain killers the other way around, hence, intensifying the pain from her earlier injury instead of relieving it?" Tony asked, still pondering over the doctors words.

The doctor smiled, "Basically, yes."

"Would it be happening again?" Ziva asked. Not even a tinge of anxiety can be seen on her face.

"I do not think so... no." Dr. Andreatos chuckled. "Luckily, the pain medications you've taken that were most likely related to the adverse reaction you've experienced are gone from your system by now. However, the sedatives and the others weren't as cooperative. Their elevated levels in your body will last a little longer."

Ziva smiled. "That is good to hear, I guess."

Dr. Andreatos smiled back in agreement, "So, Ms. David, are you sure you're ready to be discharged now?"

_Wait. Discharged… now?_

"What?" She was already prepared to make a protest regarding her impending lengthy hospitalization, so imagine her surprise when Dr. Andreatos said those words to her. She began mumbling before she could even stop herself, "I fain...Tony said that I—"

Upon hearing those magic words, Tony can't help but snort. He knew his plan would work—not only was he able to make Ziva admit that she fainted, he also made her to _somewhat_ plead for a lengthy stay in the hospital. That is something Ziva would never do, unless, of course, she was tricked by one brilliant Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. And he did just that. Ha!

All three people in the room turned their heads to stare at Tony. Well, Ziva's staring slowly turned into a glare the moment she noticed that unmistakable glint in her partner's eyes. She could recognize that glint anywhere. It was a glint full of mischief, it was immensely disconcerting. She could not wait to wipe it off his face, along with that devious smirk of his.

Both the nurse and the doctor were oblivious of the brewing war in front of them. The two went on with their job without knowing that their patient is already picturing a thousand ways of strangling her visitor with his own arm sling.

On the other side of the room, the doctor was giving them instructions about something, but the two agents were too engrossed with their staring contest, neither of them heard a thing.

"…so what do you think?" Dr. Andreatos stood by the door, clearly waiting for an answer. Hearing none, his eyebrows furrowed, "Ms. David? You know I could always—"

"No." Ziva responded abruptly. She hesitated, shook her head, and went on, "I mean, yes."

The doctor tilted his head in one side and looked at Ziva intently. Tony briefly wondered if Greek gods have xray vision, too.

The doctor wary stare made Ziva's stomach churn. The drugs were indeed messing with her cognitive processes and normal responses. If 'department of toxicology' wasn't visibly written in his coat, she'd think she's being assessed for a bizarre mental condition.

Dr. Andreatos began to seriously doubt his earlier decision of discharging his patient. She still appeared a little unstable. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem a little bit—"

"Sure." She stuttered. _Stuttered?_ She never stutters. "Sure. I am fine."

"She's fine, doc." Tony finally chose to intervene. For once this day, she was glad he did. She's practically digging her grave back there. To her joy, her soon-to-be-dead partner diligently added, "Hospitals make her like that." He even got the nerve to supplement it with a disheartened shake of the head.

The good doctor looked a little more convinced. He sighed, "Okay, then. We'll just finish that fluid, and you're ready to go."

"Thank you... Doctor And-ree-a-tus!" Tony yelled merrily to his retreating back. "You will be of great help to her."

The moment the doctor turned his back, his grip on her hand loosened as well. She immediately pulled her hand away.

"Hospitals make me what, exactly?" Ziva asked at his partner in a low voice that sounded too frightening for his liking. He could almost hear her say, 'tread carefully or else your goose will be _fried_'

Tony stared at her, unperturbed. "I was improvising, Zee-vah!" He was flexing his fingers to check for any breaks. Thank god there weren't any.

"Well, you should have improvised with something else!" She was merely spewing some friendly fire against her partner, but it is fire nonetheless. "You made me appear as if I have nosocomephobia!"

Tony chuckled, sitting back down onto the sofa. "Do you have that nosocomisomething?"

"No!" She almost screamed in frustration.

"Okay, I would apologize, but your rank in the people-who-could-kill-Tony-today list is currently way below Gibbs." Tony explained. His feet were again on Ziva's bed. Although this time, she made no effort to kick it off. She simply glanced at it with disgust before her eyes shot daggers at his direction.

He recanted. "Fine. Maybe not way below... but still basically... below."

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him, and then they suddenly brightened up as she remembered something, "Oh, yes. I almost forgot."

"Uh-oh, am I gonna be implicated by that particular recollected thought?"

Ziva ignored him. "The prank, by the way, was very well played."

Tony pulled the dumb card out of his sleeve and shrugged. Mustering his best confused look, he asked, "What prank?" He just couldn't resist making Ziva admit defeat. And the best way to do that is to plead ignorance until she herself verbalizes every single detail of her downfall. Without even him trying so hard to fish it off her.

Indeed, he had to keep up the pretence of not knowing what she's talking about. But the fruits will surely be sweet; he'll savour every word.

_Then this is where the maniacal laughter comes in. _

"I know what you are trying to do."

_Or not. No laughter yet, then. _Tony thought dejectedly. Ziva can sometimes be a real buzzkill. "And what is it that I am trying to do then?"

"You are inviting me into a dangerous game, Agent DiNozzo." Ninja said, her voice exuded confidence that no other sedated ninjas could muster.

He put his legs down, stood up, and leaned closer to her face. "Oh yeah? Tell me, what game is that, huh?"

"A game that you will never win." She gave him fleeting kiss on his cheek. "By the end of the day, you will beg me to stop teasing you. I will make sure of it."

"Oh yeah? We'll see about that." He suddenly grabbed her by the back of her head and crashed his lips onto hers, muffling her surprised gasp with his way too talented mouth. If a teasing game was what she wanted, then he'd give it to her. The only thing that could top a kiss is a kiss.

And he'll make her regret ever challenging him.

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><p><strong>Thank you my dear readers. Your reviews are awesome. And yes, t<strong>he story behind Ziva's stabbing incident will be explored soon. Much love. -lil<strong>**


	15. The Big Tales of the Pigtails

_I was a few days late for this update, I know. But here's something to make up for it. We're near the fun part of this story._

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><p><em><strong>Previously…<strong>_

"_You are inviting me into a dangerous game, Agent DiNozzo." Ninja said, her voice exuded confidence that no other sedated ninjas could muster._

_He put his leg__s__ down__, stood up, __and leaned closer to her face. "Oh yeah? Tell me, what game is that, huh?"_

"_A game that you will never win." She gave him fleeting kiss on his cheek. "I will make sure of it."_

"_We'll see about that." He suddenly grabbed her by the back of her head and crashed his lips onto hers, muffling her surprised gasp with his way too talented mouth. If a game is what she wanted, then he'd give it to her.__ The only thing that could top a kiss is a kiss._

_And he'll make her regret ever challenging him._

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><p>It took approximately fourth of a minute before the door suddenly burst open, revealing their friendly neighbourhood goth. "Ziva! How are—OH. MY. GOD." Abby's gasp would be heard all across the hallway if she hadn't closed it first. Good thing she did.<p>

Tony flinched back and threw Ziva's head back to the pillow none too gently. Nevertheless, the former Israeli was still too stiff in shock, she barely noticed the impact.

"You two..." Abby raised her two index fingers in front of her, and placed them beside one another. She repeated it a couple of more times—opening and closing the gap between the two fingers until she was finally able to relay his message to Tony. That was one of the rarest moments in which Abby suddenly loses her faculty of speech. Her mouth was slack open; her brain was still trying to make sense of it all. "What are you—"

"This is not what you think it is." Tony waved his hands in front of him in a futile attempt to make the goth forget what she just witnessed. He did not know what came into him. It was just an unplanned, spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment thing. Even he was surprised of himself.

This was not the Anthony DiNozzo he knew. Not even by a long shot.

Oh, god. Ziva will kill him. Slowly and painfully. Then, he instinctively stole a glance at his potential murderer. She still seemed out of it. _What the hell was he thinking?_

_Wait... out of it?_ He did a double take at his partner. _Is she sleeping?_

Abby managed to form a response, but her words came in irregular spurts. "What... I... think?" She knew that those two would do something that very much resembles _that_ in the near future—she just didn't expect that that near future would be_ that_ near. She pressed further. "I am not thinking about anything, what do you think I'm thinking?"

"Abby..." Tony took a step closer to the bewildered goth. At least it was Abby who caught them. God knows what would happen if it was Gibbs. "I can explain."

"Right. You stay right there." Abby raised a hard, gesturing DiNozzo to stop. He faltered a bit, but eventually continued his approach. He was able to take two more steps before Abby half screamed at him, "I said freeze!" She sounded like an agent trying to arrest a criminal.

He stood there, frozen.

The goth took a couple of calming breaths, exhaling noisily through her mouth. She gazed back at the equally bewildered agent, "You kissed. For reals." She already said it, yet still couldn't believe it.

"You really saw nothing Abbs." Tony insisted. "It wa just—"

Abby cut her off, "No, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo! That was definitely something."

He began, "I know this looks bad and—"

"Bad is not the only thing that comes to mind." She interrupted. _No, not at all._

Tony tried looking elsewhere, but the goth's steely eyes sucked him back in place.

"Since when did you two start dating?" Abby moved in closer and went on, "...and more importantly, when are you planning to come clean with our silver-haired bossman?"

"Dating?" Tony laughed nervously. He unconsciously took a step back. "No, there's no dating. How can you even say dating? Ziva and I... we're not—we haven't even—"

Abby cuts him off again, "So what, you two are just casually..." She wavered, thinking of any proper way to call it "you know... f-buddies or something?"

"What? No, of course not!" Tony denied indignantly. He took another step back. By then his hip was already touching the hard side railings of his partner's hospital bed. "How can you even think that?"

Abby stared at him with a thoroughly gobsmacked look on her face. She gasped, "You're married to Ziva?"

Tony's jaw went slack. He practically felt his gut fall right through his skin and onto the floor. A shudder ran through his spine as an image of that particular scenario ran through his head.

The idea marriage is already very scary by itself—adding himself to the equation would only make matters a whole lot worse. Marriage is an excessively complicated state of existence—and it is far more macabre than imagining Freddy Kruger with Gibbs voice.

But being married to his partner? Ha! Well, that's an even scarier thought. And no, it is not because she can sucker punch him to the next century and back with the least amount of fuss. Or because she sleeps with a gun. Or because she snores like a drunken sailor with emphysema...

What really scares him is the big fat chance that marrying her wouldn't scare him as much as it should. And boy, oh boy, he will most definitely be screwed shitless if that happens.

Abby's eyes waited for a few more beats before they finally decided to widen at their own accord. Her mind went haywire as the thought sank in, "You are!"

"What?" Nervous laugh again. "No... no... Abbs. We are most definitely not married."

"Okay. So not married then. If that's the case why are you—" By then, Abby was already less than an arm's length from the bed. The moment she saw Ziva's sleeping form, she turned sharply to the senior field agent. "Tony!"

That swift turn of her head came with a free outgoing fist.

"Ow!" A sudden wave of pain rose from Tony's left upper arm (maybe a sling isn't enough of a reminder that he has a fracture) as Abby's spiky knuckles made contact with it. The senior field agent deftly rubbed the assaulted limb in question and asked in pure shock, "What the hell was that for?"

"You kissed Ziva without her permission? That is so red light behaviour!" Abby folded her arms across her chest. She stared Tony down with eyes blazing with fury. "And don't you even bother denying it—I saw some tongue action on your part!"

"Whaaat?" Tony stood there, dumbfounded. There is no way his tongue, or any tongue for that matter was involved.

But hang on... on second thought, Abby is technically right. After all, he did kiss his partner without warning. That pretty much kicked his innocence out of the question.

"She's unconscious Tony!" Abby scolded, looking down at her friend who's lying motionless on the bed with sympathy in her eyes. "Oh, Ziva."

Tony followed her gaze. Indeed, Ziva was asleep. No, she was pretending to be asleep. He insisted, "No, she's not!"

Abby whipped around Tony—and glared, "So you are basically telling me that she is sleeping beauty ran in reverse? Kiss first then sleep later, huh?"

"Um..." Tony fidgeted in place. "That's very creative Abbs."

"Thank you Tony." Abby nodded once, then glared again. "But you can't distract me with flattery Agent DiNozzo. Speak!"

_Why the hell is Ziva doing this to him?_ She was really bent in hanging him out to dry. If he did not see her awake himself a few minutes ago, he himself would think that she's fast asleep. She can really be a damn good actress if she needs to be. "We were just playing a game..."

Abby's eyebrows deepened in thought. "A game that involves making out on a bed?"

"I—" He began, chuckling nervously. "We were just—"

Before Tony could open his mouth, Abby interrupted again. "Hold that thought!" The look she gave him tells him that he's about to receive another serving of Abby's reprimand. She obviously remembered something of importance. "Why am I just learning about this now? Does McGee know?"

"What?" Every one of Abby's questions unhinges his thoughts; he's finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with the flow of conversation. "No! McGee does not know anything because there is nothing to know!"

"Then why—" A sharp intake of breath suddenly escaped from Abby's lips. She looked like she just realized something. Again. Her brain is working a bit slow for her liking, and she hated it. "Oh, it is the concussion, isn't it? I mean, it must be... it is not as if you go around kissing unconscious people."

Tony had to bite his tongue to stop himself from pointing out Ziva's pretence again. Abby's reasoning seemed more logical than his, anyway. Maybe it really is because of his concussion. He sighed in relief and collapsed back to the couch, "Maybe you're right..."

"Now I feel really bad for thinking that you would take advantage of Ziva at her current state." Abby mumbled guiltily. "I should've known you could never do such thing."

"It's fine Abs. We're cool." Tony released a breath he didn't know he was holding and smiled. "It's nothing."

"I'm really sorry, Tony. Do you want me to call a doctor to check on you?"

"No doctors. I'm fine. And I forgive you. Can we drop this subject now?"

"Really really sorry." Abby truly felt bad on how she reacted, and whenever she feels bad, she tends to talk fast. That was exactly what she did next. "It's just that I know that the two of you are close, and have feelings for each other since... I do not know, a very long time. Maybe I was kinda hurt when I thought you've worked out of that denial stage of yours without informing any one of us. Me, especially. I've always wanted to be the first to know Tony, and—perhaps not exactly the first to know, not even the second to know actually, given that the two of you would be the first and second to know... of course that is in no particular order since that kind of conversation does go spontaneously and all. Anyway, putting it that way makes me third to know, which is not that bad when I come to think of it, though it is a bit far from the number I would have wanted for myself since when processing evidences I am always the first to know, then Gibbs, then you... but then again this is not a case and there are no criminals involved. Or stolen Navy boats. Or any dead marines. There are evidences, though. A lot of them, in fact. But then again, this is not a—"

"Woah. Slow down, Abbs." Tony stood up and steadied the goth by the shoulders as he feared she's going to move her pacing up and down the hall any moment. Regardless, he has some things to clear first and foremost. "I don't have feelings for Ziva."

"Okay, but..." Abby almost shrieked in giddiness when she caught Ziva twitch minutely from the corner of her eyes. She knew it. Her wounded colleague obviously was listening to their conversation.

The goth leaned in closer and whispered to Tony's ear. It was low enough that she's sure even Ziva's bat ears would not hear her. "I've worked with our lie detector boss longer than you, Tony."

He shivered. Literally. It was closely followed by a tense gulp. Why won't she shut up?

"I'm watching you." Abby said as she turned around and sat where Tony were sitting a while ago. She took extra special care not to make any type of clacking noise with her platforms. Ziva needs her rest.

"Abby, you make it sound like a horror movie."

"Scared that I'm right?"

"You eerily sound like EJ, too." He shook his head in disbelief.

"So she finally saw what I've been seeing for the past almost-decade?" Abby could not say she was surprised. It was a fairly obvious piece of information. "And did you just practically compare EJ to a horror movie?"

"Abby." Tony's warning voice was not stern, but it was enough to make the goth stop.

"Alright, alright." The goth gave up at last, stood up from her slouch, and turned towards the door. "I'll probably come back later when she's up."

Tony held the door open for her and followed suit. "I'll show you out."

The second the door behind him was secured shut, Abby spoke, "Read me into that game you just mentioned."

Tony glanced from side to side, as if expecting his partner just to jump out of the corridor. "You heard that?" Tony asked in a low voice, but then he realized the answer before the goth could open her mouth. "Of course you did."

"I was waiting outside, I heard you two talking, then you stopped. I thought it was okay to enter, then I saw you tonsil-hockeying her. If that's part of the game, then it would probably be so cool, the nuns would totally have a field day hearing about it this Saturday. Now, what's the game plan?" She looked at him with those bright, hopeful eyes.

A game plan. Why haven't he thought of that before? With a plan, there's no spontaneity. And spontaneity was clearly the last thing he needed if he wanted to deal with Ziva and come out of it intact. Of course, he's thinking more of the figurative kind of intact. It's a given that messing with her partner especially in her current state will put him at risk of dismemberment, possibly including all of his important appendages. But that's a risk he's more than willing to take. If that's what it takes to out-tease the legendary Ziva David, then so be it. At least his appendages will not die in vain.

He narrowed his eyes at his friend. "And you are asking because...?"

Abby's reply was almost instinctual. "I want in."

"So you don't actually think that I have... you know, feelings for her or something?" Tony said, maintaining a look of utter nonchalance. He needed to make sure Abby doesn't get any ideas about certain things first.

"What?" Abby gaped at him in an attempt to mask the excitement bubbling inside her. Does she think Tony has feelings for his partner? He should've asked her a more difficult question. But Tony doesn't need to know that. Not yet, at least.

He pursed his lip, clearly waiting for her to ask the question herself.

His intense need for denial almost made her smile. But for his sake, she decided to humour him. "Well, do you have feelings for her?"

"I—" Tony was interrupted by the goth's leather-gloved index finger.

"Thought so."

Confusion ran through Tony's features. He hasn't said anything yet. What could she possibly know? "Wha—"

"Right." Abby nodded in false agreement. "You are a good investigator, Tony. But when it comes to reading the signs, you're even worse than McGee. Way worse."

"What signs?" Whoever thought a concussion was enough to mess someone's brain up clearly haven't met Abigail Scuito.

"My point exactly."

Tony rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his dress shirt, wiping imaginary drops of sweat off his face. "Abby—"

"Fine." Abby sighed. "You don't have feelings for her."

He did not look relieved, but he nodded nonetheless, glad to make that one thing clear. "Okay, good."

Abby bit his cheek, nodding. "Good."

"She's not really sleeping." Tony said.

"Duh." She remarked. Ziva may be a spy, but she is a scientist. Abigail Scuito practically ate REM and NREM for breakfast. No one can fake it them in front of her and get away with it. But that's not a skill she could share. It may become handy for her in the future. "I heard you talking through the door, of course I knew she wasn't sleeping."

"Abby—"

Abby silenced him once more. She lowered her voice, "She'll go down without knowing what hit her. I'm on your team." With that, she's gone—leaving Tony standing alone in the hall, jaws slack, and at a loss for words._ His team?_

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><p><strong>There's no news about Cote anywhere (except that the dovekeepers will be airing sometime in March next year). Sure, I'm sad about that... but if she's having the time of her life vacationing in a very nice place somewhere, then I'm happy for her. <strong>

I will just stay home and eat some burger and fries while I await her grand return :) Well, speaking of fries... I assisted in a cystolithotomy a few days ago (that's a procedure where you surgically take out a stone from the urinary bladder) where we were able to take out a huge stone that really looked like a huge potato. That's the first time I saw a bladder stone that big. It was as large as a softball. These fries I'm eating made me remember that for some weird reason. Lol


	16. The Me in McGee

**Sorry for being gone for two weeks :/ I've been very busy... as in god-on-holy-heaven-why-am-I-doing-this-to-myself busy... then to make matters worse, my Internet suddenly decided to take an early Christmas break at the same time. To make up for my absence, here's two new chapters of my story.**

**Disclaimer: Not beta-ed. Oh, NCIS is not mine... but something tells me you already know that.**

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><p>"Did I just see that?" McGee heard Abby mumble to herself as he approached the hall leading to Ziva's room. The goth was pacing back and forth in front of their friend's door, clearly absorbed in her own thoughts. Her platforms were sending mini shockwaves on the entire floor. If she were in the morgue, she probably would've woken up the dead.<p>

McGee could almost see Abby's wheels turning inside her head as she went on, "Of course, you did, Abigail Scuito! You did see that. In fact, you probably could never unsee that! Not that I want to unsee that." Her pigtails bounced as she giggled. "Oh, this is so exciting!"

Suddenly interested, the young agent strained his ears further, careful not to be seen by the unsuspecting goth. Her monologue continued. "So what should phase one be, Abby?" She pursed her lip in thought. "And where should I hide my cameras?"

"Phase one?" Tim inadvertently repeated out loud. "Cameras?"

Abby held back a screech, and then squealed. "Oh, McGee. It's you!" She smacked him lightly on the chest. "Do not sneak on me like that!"

"Sorry." Tim flashed a sheepish smile. "But what did you see? What are you planning for?"

"What?" She mustered her best I-know-nothing look, and smiled innocently at him.

He knew that look_._ She looked just like that a few hours before he realized that she helped Tony and Ziva pour superglue under his giant coffee mug a few weeks ago. He was forced to use a straw to drink his coffee that day. It had traumatized him for life. "Your eyes are doing that thing again. You are onto something."

"What thing?" She covered her eyes with the palms of her hands. Her black nails a sheer contrast of her pale features. "Mind your own eyes, McGee."

"Right." Tim let the subject drop. He'll investigate about that later. "So how's Ziva?" He went in after Tony first came in. She was sleeping when he last saw her. That was half an hour ago.

"Still sleeping." Abby replied quickly. Too quickly.

He pursed his lip. "Those drugs got her bad, did they?"

"Maybe." Abby replied with a secretive glint in her eyes, a ghost of a smile crossing her features. "Hey, do you want to grab something down the cafeteria?"

Still looking at the goth, he dubiously agreed. If Abby wanted to go to the hospital cafeteria, then something's definitely going on. She has never been fond of eating anything prepared in an all-germ zone. Her term, not his.

"Yay! Let's go!"

"Let me get Tony first, maybe he wants to eat, too."

"No!" The goth hastily grabbed his arm, pulling him with her towards the elevators before he could take another step. Her tight grip almost made him yelp. "Don't go there. He's not hungry."

Now McGee's sure there's something hinky happening. "Abby, what is going on?" Hopefully, his two other partners aren't killing each other in there. Or maybe… "They ran away, did they?"

"What?" She guffawed. "No, silly! They're still inside."

"Then what…" He swallowed his own question as Abby's narrowing eyes met him full force. Instead, he turned to the lift (are you still supposed to call it a lift if you're going downstairs?), pressed the down button, and exhaled audibly.

As they arrived at the cafeteria floor, McGee wasn't able to hold back the tirade of questions in his mind any longer. "What can Tony possibly be doing in there that..." he faltered when the elevator doors open, revealing their silver-haired boss.

"Hi, Gibbs." Abby greeted them cheerfully—too cheerfully.

Gibbs directed his gaze at McGee. "DiNozzo's possibly doing what?"

McGee gaped at his boss. He glanced at Abby, looking for help, but all she did was smile.

He swallowed hard. "Um, ah... nothing, boss."

Gibbs gave him the stare. It turned his insides into mush.

Abby finally realized his friend's dilemma, and went for a quick save. "Gibbs, the doctor said that Ziva could leave once she finishes her IV."

The boss took a sip from his coffee cup, nodding. t was the one he usually buys in the Navy Yard. Tim wondered how on god's earth did Gibbs manage to buy that thing in half an hour, but opted not to ask.

"You have something on your mind, Tim?"

"Um..." Tim hesitated. "Tony and Ziva are—I think they are…"

"They are what?" Gibbs asked. "If you saw them playing grab-ass again, then I don't wanna know."

"Then we have nothing to say, Gibbs." Abby told him, saving McGee a second time. She pulled him away from Gibbs and into the safe arms of the hospital cafeteria. "Nothing at all."

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><p><strong>This is a short one. A filler chapter, if you may. The next one is relatively longer. Thank you for reading!<strong>

**Reviews are welcome :)**


	17. The In-charge of the Discharge

**Now, to make up for my two week break:**

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><p>"Abby." Tony murmured to himself, shuddering uncontrollably as the he finally closed the door behind him.<p>

"Abby what?" Ziva interrupted his thoughts, but she seemed uninterested in hearing his response. She was watching his face so intently it made him a little uncomfortable.

He raised his palms defensively, and then shrugged. "I'm not going in there."

"In where, may I ask?" She asked.

"In the place where we kissed and we—" He groaned. "and I'm shutting up now."

She gave him a withering glare. She already considered forgetting the whole thing altogether. Trust Tony not to be able to do the same.

"You stole a kiss, I merely stole it back." He defended. He was unsure why he suddenly felt the urge to defend his actions. It was, after all, just a kiss. As simple as that. It was totally platonic. "We're even."

"What are we, five years old?"

The way Ziva's soft chuckle made his stomach flutter uncontrollably almost made him question the platonism of it all. Was platonism even a word? Or should it be platonicity? But before he could ponder more on that, Ziva spoke once more.

"And how can that be even?"

He tried thinking of an excuse to get out of this mess, but came up with nothing. Can a concussion cause weird sensations in the gut area? Because that could totally explain the way he's feeling right now. He cleared his throat nervously. He deflected. "You were kissing people when you were five?"

"You almost ate my face."

"What?" He asked, questioning her glare—or whatever that looked like. He knew that she was going for a terrifying glare, instead of that insanely cute droopy-eyed look she gave him. "I did not!"

"Did too!" She struggled to sit—a slightly difficult task, she noticed, given her dizziness and the bed railings which wouldn't budge.

Tony, who magically appeared beside her (she cannot be that dizzy, can she?) was already pushing her back down before she could fully sit. "Did not!"

Biting back a curse, she grumpily noted, "You are a bad kisser."

_Oh-no-no. You did not just say that._

"Terrible technique." She clucked her tongue, baiting him. "Really terrible."

He leaned in, pushing her further down the mattress. "Really? Your cheeks say otherwise."

Though her features were blank, her brown orbs were full of mirth. "If they do, I am certain that it has nothing to do with you."

He inched further. She could practically feel his breath brush her lips at their proximity. "Shall I try again, then?"

She licked her lips, then glanced at his. He would never dare to kiss her again. She knew he would not. "You had your chance. You really should work on your technique."

"You see, I am working on it..." He murmured, "right now."

She visibly stiffened, now considering how serious he was about kissing her again. He did not look like he was joking anymore. Without thinking, she sank further into her pillow, retreating from Tony's line of fire. She began, "Wait, wait… um…"

He continued moving towards her. His eyes were practically ablaze. "I cannot wait that long, sweet cheeks."

By this time, she had already lost her ability to form coherent thoughts. Not to mention her ability to breathe. She could not be kissed like that again. Not if her heart ever planned on working the right way again. "Tony, I—"

As their breaths mingle, and as her heart ceased, Tony suddenly stopped midway. Then grinned. His grin was so wide it could've easily split his face "Gotcha!"

At that, she practically felt more blood to rush on her face. _Bastard._

He released her, and tried to school his best you-don't-scare-me-and-I-am-unfazed look. "So I take it that the game's still on?"

Her tone sounded almost like a defiant child. "You just want to kiss me again."

True. But seeing her squirm is too hard to pass up. He might not get another chance like this. "Sore loser."

She scoffed. "Why on earth should I participate in your silly game? I would rather shoot myself in the head than be kissed by you again."

He smirked. "Believe me, with all the stuff I can do, being kissed by me should be the least of your problems."

"Ha! Not interested." Ziva said, folding her arms across her chest.

Her defensive body language did not go unnoticed. "Is that fear I sense in your voice? Is our lethal Mossad assassin scared of a few innocent little kisses?"

After being kissed like that, innocent is the last thing that comes to her mind. Not that she would tell him that. "You have certainly lost it, Tony."

He ignored her remark and went on, caressing the side of her face with the tip of his index finger. "Scared that one more smooch from my very soft lips could turn your tough ninja armour into a puddle of goo, hmm?

She was about to utter a profanity when the plump nurse suddenly let herself in the room after two short knocks.

"Lucky break." Tony muttered under his breath. Ziva growled in response.

The nurse's voice has a southern drawl in it. "Excuse me, Ms. David, I brought the discharge papers with me." She was clearly oblivious of the exchange happening between her patient and her visitor.

"Okay. Thank you."

"Can you sit up?" She asked Ziva once she had reached her bed. "Or would you rather have your—"

"No, I can sit." The drugged Israeli lied quickly. Luckily, her lie wasn't good enough to fool Tony. He helped her into a sitting position despite her claim of not needing assistance, a deed which would have probably earned him a grateful smile if not for her sudden desire to vomit. She sincerely hoped the nurse did not notice her predicament. She may take the discharge papers away, and she would not like that at all. "Where should I sign?"

The nurse watched Ziva carefully, then beamed. The ninja had her fooled.

Ziva = 1, Nurse = 0

She handed her the papers, along with a business card. "Doctor Andreatos wanted you to call him immediately if anything changes."

"Did he now?" Tony grabbed the card from Ziva's hand, eyeing it suspiciously. He leaned forward to his partner's ear and murmured, "I think he likes you."

"Shut up." Ziva snarled at his partner, elbowing his ribs weakly. When she gazed up at the nurse, however, the snarl was gone. "Thank you, Nurse?"

"Nurse Jane." She nodded, making her double chin more prominent. "And you're welcome, my dear. I will be back shortly to remove your lines, alright?"

As soon as the nurse left, Tony rushed towards the door, locking it. "Nurse Jane? That's so Pokemon of her."

Ziva squinted at her partner. She was slightly baffled by his language, but chose to ignore him. He was probably talking about another movie she has not heard about.

"Let me guess, you do not know Pokemon either." Tony said, his face glum. "I feel so bad about your entertainment life, Ziva."

She ignored him eyed her papers instead. Or at least she tried to. Focus is not actually her friend at the moment. The words practically kept on blending into one annoying swirl of monochromatic hue the longer she stared at them.

"Is there a problem?" Tony asked, cocking his head. He moved behind her to glance at the papers over her shoulder.

Ziva continued to ignore him. She haphazardly angled the pen near the line where she's supposed to sign, but her hand shook almost imperceptibly as she tried to put pressure on it. She tried repeating the movement but only got the same results. "Ugh!"

"Let me." Tony snatched the pen from her without giving her a chance to protest. "Zi…va…" He murmured her name as he was signing it, "Da…vid." He signed with flourish. Satisfied at his handiwork, he grinned triumphantly.

"Hey!"

McGee isn't the only one who could copy signatures. "You're welcome."

"You cannot possibly know how to copy my signature." She swallowed, slurring slightly. "Or any signature."

He smirked, mimicking how her hands were just a minute ago, "And you think you can, Ms. Shaky Hands? You cannot even copy _your own_ signature."

She rubbed her face in frustration. "That bat thing surely made your head worse."

"Which head, may I ask?" He sniggered, clearly taunting her current dizzy state. She's probably seeing multiple. He held up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Stop it." She tried to grab his hand to halt his movements, but failed miserably. Her sitting made her feel like she just dumped her entire brain into a blender. She wasn't that dizzy lying down.

Clearly enjoying his partner's frustration, he wiggled both of his hands in front of her face. "How about now?"

She groaned. "Tony, stop that."

"You've got to say please."

"Tony."

He mimicked her warning tone. "Ziva."

"Tony!"

"That's my name, not a 'please'."

"Stop."

"That's not a 'please' either."

"AAAARRRGGHHH!" She collapsed backed onto her bed in a huff.

"You have multiple DiNozzos in this room." He told her proudly. "That's more than a fair deal. What more can a lady ask for?"

That's it. The fire in her, refuelled by irritation and enragement, was back. "You want fair?" She asked him, eyes blazing. "Let me show you what is fair." She seized his shirt and pulled him towards her with such force Tony was almost propelled down onto his partner's bed. Their lips were no less than a fingerbreadth apart when Ziva suddenly turned her head to the side, missing her partner's lips the last minute.

"I think those drugs did a number on your aim, sweetcheeks." He said, slightly winded.

"I do not think so." Ziva murmured to her partner's ear. Her voice was so soothing, it the hairs at the back of his neck practically stood on end. "By the end of this night, I promise you, Agent DiNozzo, I will make your life so much hell until you plead me to stop."

Her threat made his throat dry. But he would not let it deter him. He could face her head on. He knew he can. The drugs are on his side. Not to mention Abby. Abby is his Trojan horse. His secret weapon. The suit to his 007. The Paris to his Casablanca. The backpack to his Dora.

"Stop what? Verbal threats won't work on me, and you and I both know that you won't physically hurt me that much."

Her eyebrows arched. Her signature monalisa smile plastered on her face. "You liked kissing me, yes?"

The only response she got was a lopsided grin. But it was enough to confirm her suspicion. Her partner may have mastered the act of teasing his co-workers, but she surely knew a thing or two about teasing Tony DiNozzo. He has a weakness. A very specific weakness. And she sure as hell knows how to use it to her advantage.

Ziva tilted her head. "I am hard to resist. You know that."

"I'm sure you are, but I ain't interested, honey." Tony said, swallowing hard. It would not take much to tell that he's lying through his teeth.

"Well see about that, _honey_." She remarked, her eyes full of fire now, challenging him to engage.

And engage he did. "I can resist you just fine."

Her grin was almost sinister. "Sure you can."

"I'm sure I can."

The fish had finally taken the bait. But why does it feel like he was the one who got caught?

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><p><strong>That's all for now, folks. GTG! Thank you for reading.<strong>


	18. The Stare at the Stairs

**Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows. They are highly appreciated.**

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><p>Less than an hour after she was given the discharge papers to sign, the group were back in the car on their way to McGee's place.<p>

Out of nowhere, Tony proclaimed proudly, "I am Ziva David, and I am a drug addict."

"Tony, Shut up." McGee warned his partner in a low voice. That's the fifth time since they left the hospital. And it was merely 15 minutes ago. "Stop that thing you're doing. You'll wake her."

DiNozzo playfully pressed his partner's cheek with his index finger. Her head was again lying on his lap. Limp. Regardless of her valiant efforts to keep herself awake, the drugs were just too powerful for her to trounce.

"This..." He repeated the gesture twice, and then glanced at Tim, "Won't wake her. See?"

McGee rolled his eyes and gave up. "You are clearly concussed out of your mind." He couldn't help but notice that Abby had been awfully quiet ever since they left. He stepped on the brakes, parking smoothly on his parking spot outside his apartment.

"I am pleased to know that unlike our very own ninja here, you do think I have _a mind_ to be concussed." Tony grinned as McGee opened the door on his side.

McGee huffed in frustration. Giving a retort of any kind will only encourage him; hence continuing their seemingly endless exchange. "Okay, give her to me. I shall carry her upstairs."

"Oh, how mighty you are dear McChivalrous!" Tony said in a sing-song voice. "Carrying our damsel back to her tower despite his lanky physique and weak heart."

"Shut up." McGee replied, ignoring all of his partner's other comments. When Ziva's safely tucked into his arms, he took a step back and waited for Tony to come out of the car. He did not move an inch. He did not even look like he wanted to. "Please don't tell me you want to be carried as well… because I'm telling you, I'd rather feed my arms into a woodchipper than do that."

"You are being overly dramatic, probie." Tony waved his hand. "What happened, and what's with you and that bad temper of yours today?"

The question of the day, as it appears. What the hell happened? What in the fucking hell happened? "This happened, Tony. It has been just, what, a couple of hours? " He took a calming breath, and took a stab at rearranging his thoughts. "And I already am going crazy."

"Well at least this got us off work for a day." He grinned, pointing out the one single solitary silver lining amongst everything that has happened that day. He alighted the car, followed McGee into the door which the McGoo had a foresight to open before collecting Ziva, and followed them upstairs.

"These stairs do not end." Tony grumbled halfway through the first flight. The senior agent had been holding on the balustrade with his unfractured limb for dear life. Balance is not so much of a friend today.

"Tell me about it." McGee smirked. "At least you will not be carrying a whole grown up woman across three flights of stairs."

Abby snorted behind Tony. "Tim, if Tony hadn't fractured his ulna, he would gladly take Ziva off your arms."

"Right." Tim choked back a laugh. "Grabbing Ziva's ass has been your life goal since what, eight years ago?"

"Hey!" Tony tried to sound affronted by that comment. "What kind of person do you think I am? I don't engage on all out grope-fests on unconscious people."

"Of course you don't." Abby agreed, although her tone clearly implied otherwise. "You do something else." The lack of denial in Tony's part did not escape her. A knowing smile made its way onto her face.

_What the hell? Are you crazy? _ Tony mouthed at Abby, his eyes as wide as saucers.

Abby smiled so sweetly it made Tony frown. She mouthed back. _Not asleep._

_Who?_

Abby gave him her 'duh' face._ Ziva. _

_So?_ Tony asked.

A determined look crept on Abby's face. Then she winked at him, pointing her thoroughly-ringed thumb downwards. _She's going down, DiNozzo._

_What?_ Tony asked, genuinely confused. Did he just imagine that or she actually said what she just said?

_Act nauseous._ Abby mouthed at him.

Tony stared at her blankly. He was sure he was the one who sustained a head injury. Or did he imagine that, too?

Abby glared at him. _Just do it, _she said.

The senior agent did as he was told, albeit lamely. His acting was so bad, if Humphrey Bogart were his father, he would disown him.

"Tony does what?" McGee, who was preparing to conquer the final flight of stairs that separated them from his apartment, was completely oblivious of the silent exchange happening behind him.

"Tony," Abby began, brushing the final landing with the tip of her platforms. "Uh-oh, Timmy?" For someone who is faking worry, she sounded pretty authentic. Tony wondered how many times she had fooled them using that talent before.

"What?" McGee questioned, finally opening the door to his apartment. He gently laid Ziva onto the couch. "Did he finally swallow his own tongue or something?"

"Uh. I think he needs a bathroom right now…" Abby hesitated, poking at McGee's arm. "Actually, he does not even look like he could make it to the bathroom. He looks..."

"What?" McGee turned, and what he saw made his blood run cold. "Christ, Tony, don't you dare throw up in my living room!" In all his years as an NCIS agent, McGee had been accustomed to chasing dangerous drug dealers, armed robbers, and even the occasional serial killers. But he cannot think of another event where he had run faster in his life.

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><p><strong>What on earth is Abby planning? And can McGee save his living room floor? Find out next week!<strong>


	19. The Sour First Hour

**I uploaded this chapter a few days ago, but of course, silly me made a ginormous mistake of forgetting to actually post it as a part of this story. So it collected dust in my doc manager for a couple of days. I realized it just now. Sorry for the delay.**

**Anyway, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to everyone!**

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><p>"Is Tony alright?" Ziva groggily asked her friend, raising herself slightly from the couch using her elbows. She woke up the moment she landed on it. She's not a hundred percent awake, per se, but awake nonetheless.<p>

Tim shot his friend a warning look. "Don't get up. He's fine."

Ziva chose to obey his colleague rather than to challenge him. She would not be able to hold a sitting position anyway. Slowly, she lied back down. "Should we take him back to the hospital?"

"I'm sure Tony's fine." He assured her once more. "His doctors told me vomiting is to be expected. If it worsens, or if his behaviour and wakefulness change, then I will take him to the ER."

She did not look very convinced, but she nodded nonetheless. "Okay."

Tim sensed Ziva's hesitation, and he cannot say that it was unwarranted. "Though seriously, I do not have a clue how to gauge his behaviour nowadays."

"Just nowadays?" Ziva asked with a snort.

He shrugged. "I think he's up to something."

That earned him a confused look from Ziva. "He is not feeling well, McGee. I think he is entitled to a free pass, yes?"

"No, not that." McGee shook his head. "I cannot put a finger on it, but there's something hinky going on. You sure haven't noticed anything?"

Her lips burned at the memory of that spur of the moment kiss with her partner. Of course Tony was up to something. He made that quite clear. But McGee did not need to know that. Conjuring the best poker face her drugged brain has to offer, she shook her head.

"Nothing?" He studied his friend face, then tilted his head to one side. "I noticed it in Abby too. They seemed…" He trailed off. "I don't know. Weird?"

She smiled. "I am sure it is nothing."

McGee placed a fluffy blanket over his dizzy co-worker, letting the subject drop. For now. "Okay. I better check on him back there with Abby. You should rest."

As if on cue, he heard the goth's familiar voice calling him down the hall. "Tim, can you get here please?"

* * *

><p>On the other side of the apartment, while Tony was dry-heaving all of the imaginary contents of his stomach, Abby entered the bathroom. Her skyscraper-I'm-taller-than-everyone platforms had already been replaced by a fuzzy monkey slippers. But the rest of her dark attire remained as goth as it was.<p>

"What the hell are you making me do?" Tony asked her in a whisper. "I've been fake vomiting here for at least ten minutes!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby." Abby chided him. She rubbed his head the same way she does to dogs. "My plan's working."

"Okay. That's great. I really loved that plan." Tony's low voice was not able to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "And I think I would like it better if I freaking knew what the hell it was!"

Abby tilted her head to one side. "McGee's gone. I can help you now without him interfering."

The senior agent looked at her as if she had grown seven heads. "What do you mean McGee's gone?"

"I sent him out to buy you some anti-emetics."

"Anti-what?" Tony asked, grimacing as a new wave of throbbing that made its way inside his skull. Perhaps his head had taken worse beating than he originally thought. He had never seen Abby spew this much nonsense before. "How many Caf-pows have you had today?"

"Anti-emetics. They keep people from being nauseous." Abby told him as if it was common knowledge. And for his information, she only had five huge cups of her favourite caffeinated beverage that afternoon. A career low, if you ask her. But then again, the day was still far from over. Maybe she could drink two or three more before mother hen McGee comes back.

"But I am not nauseous." Tony reminded him.

Abby shook her head. "You are now."

He briefly wondered if it really was him who had the concussion. "Was I the only one in the team who got struck in the head today? Because I think—"

Abby interrupted him. "Do you want to win against Ziva or not?"

Tony narrowed his eyes at his goth friend. Do bears shit in the woods? Of course he wanted to win. "Fake vomiting in McGee's bathroom all night does not scream victory to me."

"Don't question genius, DiNozzo." Abby said. "Have I ever failed you?"

She hasn't. But then again, it wasn't her face that's getting chummy with McGee's toilet bowl. The said bowl was squeaky clean and kinda smells nice by the way, which was totally McGee-ish of it, but come _on_, a potty place is still a potty place. Tony much rather not have his extra special agent face wasted all night shoved into the same place where the probie discharges the contents of his bowels. "No, but—"

Abby placed a finger on his lips to shut him up. "Then let me bother with the details, my friend. Just go with the flow."

_The flow?_ The only flow he's seeing right now was the spiralling water in front of his face whenever he flushes down his imaginary stomach contents down the toilet. He can't help but let out another groan of protest as Abby pressed the flush lever herself. At this rate, he'd be too dizzy; he'd be vomiting for real in no time.

"All in due time, my loyal queasy friend." Abby assured him, her eyes practically twinkling with excitement, and a tinge of mischief. "All in due time."

* * *

><p>The pharmacy was merely four blocks away from his place, so McGee opted to walk instead of driving his car. He trudged at a leisurely pace, glad to have excuse from everything so that he could clear his head of the events that had happened earlier that day. But sadly, instead of clearing his head, the peace and silence made his brain run into overdrive.<p>

The simplicity of the case bothered him. Gibbs may not say anything about it, but he could tell that the bossman was also concerned. It seemed that all loose ends got tied up with a nice pink bow and then served on a silver platter onto their waiting laps.

Maybe that's the hinky thing he's been sensing all afternoon.

Mrs. Jacobson, no matter how guilty she may be when it comes to using drugs, does not look like a person who has the guts to actively seek out a big time drug supplier to appease her substance needs. Even the fictional writer side of McGee rejected the idea of Mrs. Jacobson walking along the shadier parts of town actively looking for drugs, while wearing a tutu. Her pale complexion, as well as her weird get-up clearly says that she does not get out all that much. Someone's surely enabling her, perhaps even supplied her with her prescription meds. Or at least there's someone who could link her and the dangerous drug dealer who earlier treated Tony's head like a baseball.

They're missing something. And for some strange reason, his gut tells him that whatever it was, it would affect the team significantly. He just couldn't imagine how.

All that McGee could do was to wait for the straw that would break the camel's back, and pray that even when it does, everyone in his tight-knit team will get through it unscathed.

Then, as if the universe was playing tricks on him, the metaphorical straw came suddenly, in a form of a man, shadowing him. At first he thought he was merely being paranoid, but he had been a few paces behind him ever since he left his apartment a few minutes ago. Was he following him, or they simply had the same destination?

However, his doubts were extirpated when he felt him at his tail even as he took a couple of detours along the way. He turned when he turned, and stopped when he stopped. McGee knew that whoever it was who's following him, it must be an amateur because he wouldn't get noticed that easily if he wasn't.

If it was Gibbs in McGee's shoes, he'd probably shot the man's ass two blocks ago. But hey, for what it's worth, that dude's lucky McGee was not as trigger happy as his boss.

It's also possible that instead of being an amateur, the man was simply too arrogant; he does not care whether he got noticed or not. For his sanity, McGee tried to convince himself that it was the former, because if it wasn't, he's royally screwed. Arrogant people who follow people tend to have a very clear end in mind. And that end does not end very well for whomever it was who was being pursued.

McGee wondered which of the alphabet agencies could have sent the man, but he brushed the idea off his mind as soon as it came. Surveillance dudes bring a certain feel with them, an air of authority or something; the man brings him none of that.

Feeling a heavy gaze on his back, McGee went on walking. He ignored the churning sensation in the pit of his stomach as he continued to pretend not to notice his pursuer. He mustered a smile, evened out his breathing, and discreetly wiped his sweaty palms onto his pants. A sigh of relief almost left his lips as the more populated side of town came into view. For a while, the gnawing feeling was relieved by the twenty or so people and a couple of cars passing along the intersection. However, his faux peace did not last that long.

While McGee was collecting the medicines Abby made him get from the pharmacy, he again felt the same presence lurking at a distance. It was as if someone was studying him—analyzing his every move.

Furtively, he ventured a glance behind him. He was by no means an expert in sneaking glimpses of tails, but a couple of years working with Ziva had actually taught him a thing or two. He made a mental note of thanking his colleague before he pretended to fix his hair in front of a glass enclosure containing stacks of infant vitamins. It took almost all of his willpower not to draw his weapon at what he saw.

A man, early twenties, wearing a Mets ballcap, an ill-fitting jacket, and faded jeans, was standing a few aisles behind him. The man's blond hair and slightly bulky physique made him look like a stereotypical jock fresh off high school, with a body made gold, and a head made of air. But that air must be a dangerous type of air because of what McGee spotted on the guy's jacket. There's a notable bulge on his right side pocket which admittedly could be anything, but for the time being McGee will think of it as a gun. Better safe than shot dead in a drugstore.

McGee could tell that the man surveilling him was trying his best to blend into his surroundings, but to no avail. It would not take a seasoned spy to notice his lame attempts at stalking. The field agent in him wondered what possible motive he could have to follow him all the way there. Nevertheless, that question may have to wait until he arrests him. And he will arrest him for sure. In a while. Perhaps right after they both leave the drugstore. He could not risk the man to suddenly open fire in a room full of people.

"Hey mister," a middle aged woman approached him unexpectedly, breaking his concentration at the man on his five o'clock. He almost jumped at the sound of her voice. "Lemme guess, two months?"

He stared blankly at the woman. "Excuse me?"

"Your wife's two months pregnant is she?" The woman pointed her wiry fingers at the container in McGee's hand, shuddering. "Nasty phase. I hated it too."

McGee tried to find the man again, but he's disappeared. "Actually, it's not for my wife-or any wife. It's for my partner." He answered the woman inattentively, still craning his neck to the area his pursuer just vacated. _Damn it._ He lost him.

The woman's eyes turned impish. "Oh, of course."

Upon hearing the mischief in her tone, McGee's gaze finally settled at the meddlesome woman beside him. "Of course what?"

The woman smiled, gave him a reassuring pat in the shoulder. "Tell your boyfriend to get well soon." There was a certain skip in her step when she went past him.

She was already halfway through the door when McGee's brain finally caught up with his new acquaintance's train of thought. "Oh no, I'm not—"

But before he could get another word out, the woman was gone.

And so was the guy following him.

His day just gets better and better.

* * *

><p><strong>All mistakes are mine. Thanks for reading! <strong>

_Btw, I'm thinking of joining another ship. Ever heard of 'Olicity'? Tiva will always be my otp, and I will continue writing about them, but I cannot forever stay underwater on a shipwreck. It's been more than a year. I think it's time._


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